The Journal of Sara Reid
by ReidWatson
Summary: Sara Reid is the young half sister of Doctor Spencer Reid. Both of their lives change when he becomes her guardian. Reviews appreciated.
1. Chapter 1

_Authors note: story begins just before season 3 episode 18:The Crossing. I'm making Reid's age about 27, he and Sara are going to age a bit slowly for my timeline. Sorry for any confussion. Enjoy. _

My name is Sara Reid. I just turned 14 years old two weeks ago. Two months ago I lost everything. My mom died from a drug overdose. And now I have no one. My father, William Reid, left when I was six. We really were happy back then. Before the fighting started. He always talked about being guilty and how he couldn't stay, that he wasn't a good father, and called himself names. He just walked out one day and I haven't seen him since.

I've been living in a child care facility in Virginia for the past month. Child protective services have been trying to find a guardian for me. Dad gave up his rights to me after he left, and CPS hasn't been able to contact him.I thought I would go to my Uncle Daniel, but it turns out he died years ago.

I thought I was all alone until they read my Mom's will. It turns out I have a brother. A half brother, by my Dad. His name is Spencer and he lives near Quantico Virginia. Because he's my only blood relation, he could take legal guardianship of me, which is truly terrifying. I didn't even know he existed, so I doubt he knew about me.


	2. Chapter 2

-One week later-

CPS is bringing me to the FBI Headquarters at Quantico. FBI Headquarters! That's where 'big brother' works. My case worker told me in the car that I didn't have to meet him if I didn't want to, that there is a good chance that my brother won't want guardianship. He's only 28, and has this amazing prestigious job. Why would he want a teenager to look after?

We went through security and took an elevator to the BAU- Behavioral Analysis Unit of the FBI. A security guard pointed us in the right direction. It was obvious that Spencer Reid had told his co workers about my existence, because they all looked at me when I walked in with my case worker. A dark haired man in a suit walked down from an office and introduced himself as Special Supervisory Agent Aaron Hotchner. He said Spencer was in his office and we could use that space to discuss what we needed to.

We followed him up the stairs, and I hesitated at the office door. I turned to look back at the people below, and they all looked away quickly. Despite my nerves I smirked at their obvious interest. Then I went in. Spencer Reid was standing against the wall, he looked nervous. He looked up quickly when I came in. He was tall, and very skinny. His hair was brown and went to his shoulders, and brown eyes.

I noticed some resemblance immediately. Although my hair is dirty blonde and my eyes are blue, the similarities were still blatant. We had the same jaw and brow line. We were both very thin, and we both looked surprised by each other. Agent Hotchner and the case worker just stood there, waiting. Finally Spencer moved.

He cleared his throat and said "Hi, Sara, I'm Doctor Spencer Reid, um" Then he stopped, looking confused as to how to continue.

"Sara Reid. Hi, Spencer Reid." I continued. "9th grade in the fall, but AP classes in English, science and math" Something of recognition crossed Agent Hotchner's face, and he looked pleased.

"I'm sorry about your Mom."

"Thanks".

Finally the case worker chimed in, "Agent Hotchner, would you please escort Sara out, I think Doctor Reid and I should discuss… this in private."

"Of course. Please, come with me." I waved goodbye to Spencer before following Agent Hotchner out.

"So you're Spencer's boss?" I asked.

"Yes I'm the team leader of the Behavioral Analysis Unit"

"That's cool. Nice office," I said.

Hotchner seemed a little confused, but smiled. "Thank you. Would you like to meet my team?"

"You mean the people who stared at me when I came in but pretended not to? Sure." By now I was talking rather quickly. Hotchner led me over to the group of agents near their desks.

"Guys this is Sara Reid, Reid's half sister, Sara this is SSA Derek Morgan," he gestured to a tall, muscular, dark skinned man, who smiled. I shook his hand. "Agent Emily Prentiss," she smiled and nodded. She had shiny black hair and friendly eyes. "Agent Jennifer Jareau, JJ the team media liaison."

"Hi" Jennifer was very pretty and had long straight blonde hair, lighter than mine.

"And Penelope Garcia…"

"Technical genius of the BAU." She finished for him. Penelope had bright platinum hair, and was heavily decorated in scarves, rings and beaded necklaces. Agent Hotchner patted me on the shoulder and walked back to his office.

There was a pause while the agents looked at me. "Is there something on my face?" Agent Morgan smiled. "No no, just…"

"You look like…" added Prentiss.

"Just like Reid" finished Jennifer.

"Is that good?" I asked.

Morgan laughed, "Just nice to see that Pretty Boy must have some good DNA in him somewhere, considering he has such a pretty sister." I blushed. These people were evidently very fond of Spencer.

"Tell us about yourself, sweetness" said Garcia.

So I did. "Well, I've always lived in Virginia. I'm going to high school this fall. Um, I'm going into 9th grade, but I'm taking AP Science, Math and English. As I trust you know, my Mom died recently, and I just met my brother. Pretty Boy, as you phrased it, sir."

The Agents smiled, "Funnier than Reid too," Morgan added.

"I like this one" said Garcia.

My face had been red through this time consistently. "Well it's very nice to meet you Sara, if you'd excuse us, I have an appointment" said Jennifer, motioning to Agent Prentiss. "And please, call me JJ" She said, shaking my hand, as did Agent Prentiss.

"And call me Emily."

"Nice meeting you both" I said, and they walked to another office.

I chatted with Morgan and Penelope for awhile longer. They exchanged knowing glances every time I mentioned something like 'I love reading.' I looked up at the office window; although the blinds were open I couldn't see much activity.

"So Sara, ever seen a lair?" Penelope asked.

"Pardon?"

"My intellectual bat cave of computer stuff. Wanna see? I think they're going to be awhile," she said, gesturing to the office.

"Oh, sure!" I agreed nervously.

"I'll tell them where you went when they finish" said Morgan, gesturing towards the office doors. I waved goodbye to Morgan, glancing one more time at the office window, and then followed Penelope down the hall.


	3. Chapter 3

"Do you want anything to drink?" Penelope asked, leading me down one of the long hallways.

"Um… coffee?" I asked shyly.

Garcia smirked again. "Mind if I asked what everyone keeps laughing about?" I asked, feeling more at ease with the agent.

"Not at all, pumpkin. You just seem to have quite a few similarities to the boy wonder, Doctor Spencer Reid," she answered.

"Like what?" I asked curiously, falling in step with the tech analyst.

"Well, you read, you like learning, you drink coffee, probably with about a ton of sugar?" She guessed. I nodded in confirmation.

"You look like him, and you speak way to fast sometimes," she continued, I just nodded.

"And this, my darling, is the bat cave!" Flinging open the door, I saw an entire room of monitors, blinking away.

"Impressive" I commented.

"Why thank you," she said graciously. She signed on to one of the desktops and opened a basic internet browser. "Feel free to surf, I will return shortly with your coffee."

"Thank you Penelope," I called after her into the hallway.

I immediately searched: Doctor Spencer Reid. Turns out that 'boy genius' is not an exaggeration. Spencer is a genius. He graduated from a public high school at age twelve and went to Cal Tech at thirteen. Reid has three doctorates in Mathematics, Chemistry and Engineering which he earned before the age of twenty one. He also holds undergraduate degrees in Psychology and Sociology. He has an IQ of 187- that's higher than Einstein's supposedly- an eidetic memory, and can read 20,000 words per minute. That's insane- I can read 450 words per minute, which is above average, but still.

"Well then," I muttered to myself. I heard footsteps behind me. Expecting Garcia, I turned around to take my coffee, but instead found Spencer Reid himself. He was carrying two cups of coffee.

"Here," he offered one to me, which I accepted. "So, you're allowed to come stay with me, if you want. I mean, you don't have to if you would prefer not to, you don't even know me. But you can if you want" He blurted this all out very quickly.

"If you wouldn't mind me staying with you, sure, I'd be happy to. In case you hadn't realized, I don't really have anyone else. Not to say that you're a last resort, just…" I stopped there, and took a breath. "Hi, Spencer Reid, I'm Sara Reid, I'd be really very happy if you would let me come live with you." I shook his hand and grinned, my face going red again.

"Alright then… I'll go sign some paperwork."


	4. Chapter 4

Two days later, Spencer Reid was my legal guardian. I was dropped off at Quantico, because Spencer was still at work for the day. I was greeted by him and Morgan in the hall outside the BAU. Spencer gave me a brief hug, however, Morgan picked me up off the ground completely, "Hey little Reid," he said. He set me down and I readjusted my glasses. Emily and JJ greeted me with hugs as well, which was nice of them, though I was unused to all the affection.

"Spence, we've got a case" said JJ, Spencer glanced at me nervously.

Hotchner walked up to us, "Reid if you want to take this one off it's fine" He said understandingly.

"No, no it's alright." I jumped in; "I don't want to interrupt anything, really. Besides, if this is what it's always like, you being gone and all, I may as well get used to it."

"Fine, Sara can stay with Garcia. Let's go," replied Agent Hotchner.

The team left within an hour. Spencer, JJ, Emily and Morgan went to help a woman whose stalker had followed her over hundreds of miles, while Agents Hotchner and Rossi, who I had not met yet, went to assist a woman on her case. In the meantime, I had carted my 1.2 bags (my only possessions in the world) to Garcia's cave. Garcia seems to have one of the best and worst jobs in the world. Her job is exciting, and she gives information to the team that seems crucial to finding an unsub (unidentified subject, as Penelope explained). She also sees a lot of horrible stuff, and she seemed uncomfortable digging through people's pasts.

By 3 am the team had stopped their investigation for the night, so Penelope shut down her computers and carted me back to her apartment, which was even more brightly decorated than she was. She made me a bed on the couch. I was so exhausted I fell asleep almost immediately, but was woken up just as quickly by the sound of hushed talking. Penelope was evidently on the phone with someone- Spencer.

"It's fine Sweetness, The Pixie is fast asleep, safe and sound" –pause- "You should call us tomorrow if you're still gone" –pause- "Because, Reid, she is yours now and she has to know that you take an interest in her" Garcia seemed to be somewhat frustrated with my 'new brother'. As much as it pained me, I forced myself from my couch and stumbled over to Penelope. She covered the phone's mouthpiece, "Oh I'm sorry, I didn't mean to wake you," She apologized.

"That's ok, is that Spencer? Could I talk to him?" I asked nervously. She smiled and handed me the phone, then went to her bedroom.

"Garcia?" Spencer was calling from the other end.

"No it's me, Sara," I answered.

"Oh. Hi. Garcia said you were already asleep."

"I was, now I'm not."

"Alright." There was a pause.

"How's the case going?" I asked eventually.

"We're working on leads, we think the unsub- the stalker- might have worked with the woman he was following."

"Well I hope you find him. Maybe you could update me tomorrow if you aren't back yet?" Another pause.

"Alright, I will if you want," Spencer said a little reluctantly.

"Cool. I guess I'll let you work or sleep or whatever," I said, not wanting to overly prolong the conversation.

"Yeah, well goodnight."

"Goodnight Spencer," I waited until he hung up. As soon as I put the phone down, Penelope rushed out of her room and gave me a hug.

"You'll win him over, I promise," she assured me.

And sure enough, Spencer called again the next day from the car. The unsub had kidnapped the woman he had been following, but they caught him before he got away with her. Now the team was on their way back to Quantico. By the time they got back it was past 10 pm. Penelope and I were there to greet them at the BAU. We waited for them at the elevators. JJ and Emily said hello, and Morgan greeted me with "Hey there, Glasses" when they walked out. Spencer was the last one off the elevator.

Garcia looked on as I hugged Spencer briefly and said "I'm glad you got back alright." He let go of me and turned to Penelope. "It's pretty late; would it be alright if Sara stayed with you for the night?"

"Sure Reid," Penelope said, not at all opposed to the idea.

I spent the night thinking about what tomorrow might be like. I'd be starting my stay with Doctor Spencer Reid. My mind was swimming. I fell asleep to the thoughts of: What if we don't get along? What if he won't talk to me? What am I going to do every time there's a case?


	5. Chapter 5

I woke up the next morning to the sound of Penelope moving around in her kitchen. "Good morning Sweetness. How many sugars for your coffee, two or three for the young sugar addicted Reid?" She asked, sounding amused.

"I'm all butterflies, so five would do nicely. Or twelve," I answered sleepily.

"Not a chance my dear, I am not sending you back to Reid with a mouthful of cavities. You get two sugars and that is all."

"Fine," I conceded. I was actually very sad to leave Garcia's apartment, we'd been getting along really well for the last two days. I wondered if it would ever be like that with Spencer.

Eventually there was a knock at the front door. "Garcia?" Spencer called through the door. I went to answer it. "Oh, hi Sara."

"Hello again Spencer" He stood in the doorway for a moment or two, unsure of whether or not to come in.

"Is that you Spencer, dear? I have your coffee in here if you'd like some," called Penelope from the kitchen. Spencer just looked at me, and continued to stand there in the doorway.

"Well?" I asked, and went back to the kitchen with Reid following close behind.

Penelope handed over the coffee to Spencer. "Thanks Garcia, and for watching Sara for me."

"Oh it's no trouble my dears. But now I regret to say I must send you off."

"Oh already?" I asked, looking desperately at Garcia.

"Yes yes dear, I'm a very busy woman, now off you go," Spencer, frowning, set down his unfinished coffee as Penelope nudged us both out of the kitchen and towards the door. "Here is your bag, call me later so I can make sure Doctor Reid has not starved you. Lovely to see you, Reid. Goodbye." And she slammed the door in our faces.

I glanced up at Spencer, "Hello again," I said.

"Hi," he answered awkwardly, now avoiding eye contact with me all together.

"It seems we've been banished," I pointed out.

"I suppose we had better leave then," Spencer said.

"So it seems." Spencer picked up my larger bag and headed out of Garcia's building to the street. I gave the door of her apartment a fleeting glance before driving off.

The first five minutes of driving were silent. I was just beginning to think that the next 4 to 6 years would be spent in silence, when finally Spencer asked: "So… what's your life like?" This seemed almost too broad a question for me to begin.

"What do you mean?" This apparently stumped him.

"Well, other than what your case worker told me, which wasn't much, I don't know anything about you really," He answered.

"That must be a first for you," I smirked.

"What is?" He asked, furrowing his brows.

"Not knowing anything about something." Then he got quiet again and I cringed internally. "What I mean is, Penelope and Morgan just gave me the impression that you know, well, everything? So for you to say you don't know anything about me struck me as funny."

"Oh. Um, alright then." He thought for another moment. "Not to say I know nothing about you per say. For example, you're 14 years old; you fall into the 31% of teens who don't own their own computer. Actually an interesting thing about teenagers who use the internet regularly, most teenagers spend upwards of 2 hours on the internet daily, 80% of that time is spent on social networking, even though only 8% of teenagers in the United States use the social network site Twitter."

"Kay then," I nodded, not sure where this conversation was going.

"Also, 7.5 million Facebook users are under the age of 13, even though it's a direct violation of facebook's user policy," He continued.

"So then do you use Facebook Spencer?" I asked.

"No, I don't even have email."

"Right."

By the time Spencer had finished telling my internet statistics we'd reached his building. His was a third floor apartment. We hiked up to flights of stairs, by passing the elevator, despite having to carry my bag. When questioned about it, Spencer said something about having had a bad experience with an elevator and Morgan recently. I would have to ask about this later.

He unlocked the door to his apartment, the second one down the hall, and led the way in. The apartment was pretty bare, probably because its inhabitant didn't spend much time there. It was small, but not cramped. Spencer glanced at me and cleared his throat. "Want me to show you around?"

"Sure," I nodded.

There was a short hall from the doorway into the apartment. To the right was a small kitchen and a living room, furnished with what appeared to be dorm furniture- small couches and a flat screen TV. To the left was a small bathroom that I would be sharing with Spencer, his room was next to it, and then mine next to his.

"JJ came over yesterday after you went back to Garcia's apartment. She bought you some bedding. She said she hopes you like it." My room was white, with pale hardwood flooring. The bed was made up with a light purple comforter and some white and blue pillows, courtesy of JJ. There was a small white desk in the corner, and a white dresser against the wall, opposite a closet.

"It's great; I'll have to thank her."

As though realizing he was still holding it, Spencer set down my bag. "I guess I'll leave you to unpack, just ask if you need anything," He said, stepping back towards the door.

"Thanks Spencer." He gave a small smile and exited the room. I fell back on the bed and stared at the ceiling.


	6. Chapter 6

I unpacked my few belongings, hesitating when I pulled out a little leather bound photo album. I flipped through it for a few minutes until I heard sounds coming from down the hall. I went to investigate, and found Spencer in the kitchen, apparently trying to balance stirring pasta and getting some partially burnt chicken nuggets out of the oven. He heard me and looked up, his face flushed. "I didn't know what you liked, and this was all I had."

I laughed, "It's fine, here let me help." I set down my photo album and went to stir the pasta, which was now very stuck to the bottom of the pot. "I'll do this; you tend to your chicken."

Spencer nodded and proceeded to try and unstick the nuggets from their tray. After about five minutes of scraping he announced, "You know, I think the chicken may be a lost cause. I'm pretty sure child protective services might take you away if I try to feed you this."

I laughed outright, "You made a joke!"

"Food poisoning is no joke," He smiled at me despite himself and dumped the whole tray into a trash bin.

"Well I think your pasta is salvageable. Do you have any sauce?" I asked, wondering if there was a supermarket nearby.

"No," Spencer grimaced.

"Butter?"

"I do have butter."

I grinned at his confusion, "Don't you ever cook Spencer?"

"Not when I can avoid it, no," He answered truthfully.

"Alright, I guess I'll be in charge of that. Mind you, I can only make pasta really. Mom and I used to live off it." He nodded, and noticed my album.

"What's this?" he asked, picking it up.

"Just some pictures from when I was younger. You can look if you want" I allowed, continuing to stir the noodles around. He flipped through the book, stopping occasionally. I heard him cough and turned around. The book was back on the counter, opened to an early page. "Something wrong?"

"Um, just, that's my father." He said, pointing at the page. I looked, and saw the picture. A little blonde haired girl and a man in his late forties, sitting together in a car in a residential neighborhood.

"Yeah. This was just before he left actually. I was six when this was taken." Spencer sat down, not looking at the photo.

"What happened, why did he leave?"

I sighed, "He and my mom weren't married. I remember, about the time I turned four, he would come home tired and upset, start talking about being a horrible father, and how it was no good for him to be here anymore. He always seemed guilty for something. Two years later he just left. Mom started taking these anti depressants, pain meds…." I trailed off. "That's about it really." My voice choked up a bit, and I started viciously stirring the pasta.

Reid looked back at the picture, and picked up the book. He squinted and looked at the photo intensely. "Do you know where this is?" he asked suddenly, pointing at the houses outside the car.

"Not exactly, Dad took me on a road trip there once. He said he knew people who used to live there."

"Sara, this was the house I grew up in." Spencer said. "Why did he take you there?"

"He… he said he wanted to see if his friends still lived there. I don't remember exactly."

Spencer frowned at the picture again. "Wanted to see if his friends still lived there? Never mind, not important," he mumbled. I decided I wouldn't bring up Dad again. It seemed like Spencer was still angry about him leaving him and his mother all those years ago.

"I think the pasta's finished. Still have the butter?" I asked. Spencer and I ate at the little wooden table in his kitchen. We chatted for a bit about books, and his team, and he told me more statistics.


	7. Chapter 7

Four days later, life with Spencer was close to normal. After two days of pasta and takeout, JJ and Agent Rossi came to the rescue. JJ brought Spencer and I shopping for food, and Rossi tried to put us through some intense food preparation training. Spencer didn't do too well. Garcia and Morgan had taken to visiting in the afternoons; Penelope would usually bring me books or ornaments for my room.

"Coming, hang on," I called down the hall. We were expecting Morgan for dinner; we would be experimenting with chicken for the first time since the nugget incident. I padded down the hall, my socks sliding on the hardwood, and unlatched the deadbolt, "Honestly Morgan, what's the rus…?"

"SURPRISE!" The entire B.A.U. team was standing in my doorway, carrying an array of trays and gift bags, my face flushed red. JJ shoved a ridiculous cake shaped hat over my eyes.

"Um, thanks? Come in." I reconfigured the hat as the six agents crowded into our kitchen, where Reid was laughing at my shock.

"Hey that used to be my hat," he laughed, "Does this mean I'll never have to wear it again?"

"Wouldn't count on it kid," replied Morgan.

"Reid!" I called after him, "May I speak to you please?" I asked as I herded him into my room. "It might be a bit late to tell you this but I really, really don't like parties, parties centered around me especially," I said, my sense of anxiety rising.

"You're right; it is a bit too late for that. Sara, either way I doubt you could have prevented this. As soon as they found out your birthday had happened recently, they kind of forced me to let them do this."

I sighed, "Fine." I gave him a short hug, "And thanks anyways." We went back out to the kitchen and found the profilers raiding our fridge. They turned around and greeted me with hugs and 'happy birthdays'.

"Now I know how much you were looking forward to feeding me chicken, Glasses, but Baby Girl brought something better," Morgan grinned.

"TADA," Garcia unveiled a small but elaborately frosted birthday cake. Emily pulled out a box of candles and stuck 14 into the cake and lit them. I was desperately fighting the urge to run from the room as all seven FBI Agents began a rousing anthem of 'the happy birthday' song. My face was bright red and I was glaring at the profiler's shoes. At the end I blew out the candles, made my wish, and was greeted by cheers.

"You should consider yourself lucky, when I was 24, they put trick candles on my cake," said Spencer. "Interesting thing about candles, did you know that candles were originally used to protect the birthday celebrant from demons for the…"

"Yeah, that's something I haven't thought about lately. Demons. Thanks Spencer," I said, hoping to cover my embarrassment, the team laughed at the face he made.

The cake was delicious, of course. Then the team and I crowded onto the couch and chairs in the living room so I could open gifts. Hotch gave me a card, featuring a drawing from his son Jack, who although I'd never met him, appeared to have put quite a bit of effort into it, as much as a little kid could anyways. Confessing to not knowing what teenage girls like, he also handed over a twenty dollar bill. I thanked him and asked if he could give my compliments to the young artist. Rossi, having the same trouble as Hotch, gave me an unwrapped, basic cook book, 'to ensure the boy genius doesn't let you starve.' I laughed and thanked him for his concern for my continued existence.

Emily gave me a small wrapped box containing a picture frame. I turned it over, and inside was a picture of me and the entire BAU team outside the FBI headquarters. It had been taken a day before. "I really love this, thank you," I said smiling. Morgan gave me a card with $30 and a large wrapped package. I eagerly tore into in, only to find… a box. The team started laughing as I meticulously unwrapped seven boxes, each smaller than the last, until finally finding the last box to contain a roll of heavy duty duct tape marked 'to be used when Reid won't stop telling you statistics. Love Derek.' Spencer threw a couch pillow across the room towards Morgan, but missed and hit the wall of bookshelves behind him, luckily not knocking anything off. "Boys, don't make me ground you," JJ scolded. I laughed and opened her card, containing a gift certificate from her and Morgan to a local home decor shop.

"Considering Reid's house is pretty much a dorm room, I thought you might want to add a bit to it," she explained. I thanked them both profusely, truly touched by how much they all cared. Penelope gave me a small pamphlet entitled 'How to find out anything about anyone (legally) and not get caught, by Penelope Garcia' and an iPod.

"I actually have another one, so don't worry your pretty little head about it my dear," she insisted "Our old boss actually gave me one a few years ago, and I had just bought that one, but never got to use it, so now it's yours."

Finally, I opened Spencer's gift, a gift card to the local book store. "That's not all I got you though, Garcia, JJ and Emily convinced me you would like this, so I'm letting them take you shopping for clothes and anything else you might want, all on me of course." I blushed at my new brother's generosity.

"Spencer I don't know if I can accept that, I.. I mean you're letting me live here, I really don't need all this, and none of you had to do any of this…" I was immediately met with a chorus of disagreement.

"Sara, I actually really want to do this for you, all of us did," Reid insisted.

"Spence has been a sort of pet for us all these years," JJ explained "and you're a Reid too. You're getting all the benefits."

"Besides, it'll be way more fun shopping for you than for Reid," Prentiss added.

I laughed, "then again, we could do something about the hair…" I continued.

"What's wrong with my hair?" Spencer demanded, everyone but Spencer roared at his complete disbelief.

The agents left soon afterwards. I thanked them all again for their generosity. It was well past 10 pm when everyone was gone and the apartment was cleared up. I yawned and stretched, getting up from the couch. "This was really too nice of you Spencer." I said for about the 10th time. He smiled and glanced up from the TV. "Well, I think I'll go to bed."

"Alright, goodnight. Happy Birthday," He said over his shoulder.

"Thanks," I grinned and patted his head as I walked past.

Back in my room, I set the picture of the team on my dresser and looked at it for a few moments, smiling to myself. I put on my pajamas and was about to do a few minutes of reading, when I noticed a note at the foot of my bed. I picked it up; it was a short hand written note:

_I'm glad you're here. –Spencer_

I grabbed a piece of paper and scrawled out a few words. I ran back to the living room, leaned over the back of the couch and hugged my brother around the neck. I dropped the note and ran back to my room to watch from the doorway. He picked it up and looked at it for a solid minute, incredibly longer than was obviously necessary for him to read it.

_I am too. –Sara _

_Authors note: This is not the conclusion, just the end to this particular part of the story. Chapter 8 soon. _


	8. Chapter 8

_Authors note: Episode 3x19_

Spencer, Penelope and I sat at the desks in the BAU office, clustered around a piece of paper Reid was holding. "It's remarkable. Something like this makes you question everything you thought you knew," Spencer said.

"Yeah, it's like the monolith in 2001," Garcia agreed.

"So there was a time when something like this was socially acceptable?" I asked, staring closely at the paper.

"Oh, you're young," Penelope consoled me, "The 80's left a lot of people confused. This is especially sad though." The three of us started to giggle as Prentiss reached for the paper, a blown up school picture of Emily from her high school days.

"Alright guys, very funny, very funny. What'd you do to it?"She demanded, questioning the spiked black hair, black lipstick and heavy mascara she sported in the picture.

"Do?" Garcia asked innocently.

"You obviously altered it in photoshop or something. That hair!"

"Oh no pussy cat, that's all you. Garfield High, class of '89," Garcia assured. Spencer looked bemused and I was holding back another fit of giggles.

"You really didn't change anything?" Prentiss sounded disappointed.

"We hacked it as is," I said.

"You're seriously telling me you don't remember rocking that look?" Penelope asked, looking skeptic.

"Perhaps you're lack of recognition stems from a dissociative fugue in adolescence." Spencer chimed in. "Say at a Suzie and the Banshees concert?" he added, glancing up at Garcia, who laughed merrily.

"So weird, like some other life," Emily continued to mutter to herself.

Hotch walked over, just getting off the phone. He looked serious, which_ is_ normal, but more like case-serious. "What was that about?" Prentiss asked, finally setting the picture down. I snatched it back and stuffed it in my bag. I was determined to frame it and hang it on the wall at home.

"Brian Mattloff," Hotch answered grimly.

"Who?" I asked.

"A.k.a the Blue ridge Strangler," Spencer immediately filled in.

"But that was like four years ago," Garcia pointed out.

"Three victims in the Blue Ridge parkway," added Prentiss, who at least remembered _something. _

"Allegedly," Spencer continued, "he was never convicted, he slipped into a coma before he could be tried," he explained to everyone. Mostly me.

"Looks like they're finally going to get their chance. He just woke up," Hotch announced.

Hotch and Rossi went to speak with a lawyer looking to convict Mr. Mattloff. Hotch used to be a prosecutor and she wanted his help. Within an hour he and Rossi called the BAU with a slight problem. Mattloff had amnesia. He didn't even remember his name, let alone the murders. I asked Spencer about the case after they left the bullpen. He had seemed familiar with it, and now I knew why.

"It was one of my first cases with the BAU," Spencer had explained. "The bodies were found face down. We thought it may have been a sign of remorse, even though the kills were opportunistic. It actually turned out that Mattloff had an interest in Native American mythology. There is a Native American belief that if you burry a body face down, it traps the soul, preventing it from haunting the killer," Spencer added, probably the second time he'd explained this today. "The only witness who could link Mattloff directly to the crimes died two years ago from a drug overdose." I involuntarily flinched, but Reid didn't notice. "We're going to request he undergoes brain finger printing to prove whether or not he actually remembers the crimes."

"Spencer, since you're not hunting down killers today, and since it's local, do you think I could come and watch the trial? Purely as an educational endeavor," I asked persuasively as possible, hoping to get a handle on what my new guardian did for a living.

He thought for a minute, "I'll ask Hotch."

Hotch and Reid and I drove to the court building to request the brain finger printing, Hotch continually expressing his displeasure at my presence, and telling Reid that he really can't bring me along. When we arrived, Spencer and I sat in the area behind the counsel tables. Mattloff's attorney was very hard headed and purposefully close-minded, in my opinion. In the end, Mattloff actually requested the procedure, hoping it would help him remember who he was, so the judge granted it.

When we were released from the court room, Spencer and I had started walking back out of the building. "Doctor Reid?" asked a man walking behind us. I had noticed his sitting towards the back of the court room in the same area we had been sitting. Reid turned around and shook his hand.

"Mr. Corbin," he greeted, "I didn't see you in there." That surprised me, Spencer gave the impression of noticing everything. "How have you been?" Spencer asked.

"Not bad, considering. You aren't buying this amnesia thing, are you?"

"I'm trying to figure that out," Spencer answered.

Mr. Corbit was a bit shorter than Spencer, balding, and looked slightly dejected. "Probably something the lawyer thought up. It won't work, will it?" he asked, hopeful.

"We have a pretty strong case," Spencer assured.

"Good. You look different." Corbin said, "Your hair."

"It's been four years," Spencer pointed out.

"Right, I forget. Sometimes I feel like Darcy's… just… messes with time this thing. You know? You lose time."

"I know," Spencer agreed.

"You always hear about closure. You never really know what the means. Maybe now I can get on with things," Corbin said hopefully.

"How's Mrs. Corbin doing? Is she here?" Spencer asked, changing the subject.

"No. No, we split up. It was hard. It was my fault really."

"I'm sure it was just… it happens."

"I know. Everything's going to be ok now." Mr. Corbin glanced down at me suddenly, as if noticing that I was there for the first time. "Is this a new Agent or something?"

I blushed a bit. "What? No this is my sister, half sister, she wanted to see the trial," Spencer explained.

"Oh, I just thought… You were really young when you started, Doctor," Mr. Corbin pointed out.

Spencer smiled, "Yeah, I was." Spencer and Mr. Corbin shook hands and parted.


	9. Chapter 9

Spencer put me on a bus back to our apartment, and he drove back with Hotch to the BAU.

The next day I went back to court with Hotch and Spencer. This time Hotch didn't comment on me being there. He was focused. The attorneys gave their opening statements. I learned that Mattloff had been a member of the park service, and this was how he would get the women to a secluded area to murder them. Mattloff's defense argued that there was nothing to tie him directly to the murders. Hotch took the stand, assuring the jury that Brian Mattloff was the murderer. He explained how he, Reid and Morgan had determined that the murders were the work of a serial killer, and that they had narrowed the suspect pool until only one person remained: Brian Mattloff. Throughout this time I could clearly hear Mattloff's lawyer's phone vibrating occasionally on the table. Garcia had also worked on this case, and had helped them go through names of employees of the park service.

We were let out of the courtroom for a short break before Hotch would be questioned by the defense. Spencer called Rossi to tell him that all went well so far. I sat on one of the benches, and started thinking about Mr. Corbin. There was something odd about him. I knew it couldn't be easy for him to revisit all of this again, after the murder of his daughter had destroyed his marriage and most of his happiness.

Court resumed shortly, Hotch was back on the stand. Mattloff's lawyer immediately started pegging away at the evidence of Mattloff's guilt. He had an outstanding warrant at the time of his attempted arrest. The lawyer reasoned that this was the reason he had fled from law enforcement. It didn't seem at all reasonable to me, because, as Hotch pointed out, he was being pursued be eight law enforcement officers in bullet proof vests.

The lawyer continued to give speeches about how criminal profiling was just educated guesswork. I was starting to get irritated with this man, when Hotch turned it around, and profiled everything about him from the color of his socks to why his phone kept buzzing: he bet on horses and he was getting race results. Since he refused to show his phone to the judge and jury, he had to let Hotch off the stand. I saw Spencer suppress a smile, I didn't hesitate to grin at Hotch.

Court adjourned, and Spencer immediately pulled me out into the hall to find Mr. Corbin. From where I'd been sitting, I had seen some sweat on the back of his balding head. He'd been nervous during questioning.

"Mr. Corbin," Spencer called after him, pulling me along, "I just wanted to make sure you knew that cross-examination wasn't as bad as it looked," Spencer tried to assure him.

Mr. Corbin looked strangely calm and responded, "I'm not worried."

"Good," Spencer said, sounding surprised.

"I have a… better understanding of things now."

"Understanding?" Reid asked.

"After Darcie died, I started to see a therapist, I had a lot of guilt, thought that I should have been there for her, saved her somehow," Corbin explained. I looked at the tiled floor, understanding just what he meant. "This guy, the shrink," he continued, "He always brought it back to control. He said that I had to accept the fact that there would always be things in life I couldn't control."

"Well I think that's wise," agreed Spencer.

"I realize I have no control over what goes on _in that court room." _Spencer gave him a questioning look. "See you later Spencer." Mr. Corbin nodded to me and turned away.

"Mr. Corbin, wait!" I called after him. He stopped and turned around. "It will be ok, you know," I assured. "I know what it's like, it will be ok, I promise."

He gave me a look I didn't recognize, and in a far off voice replied, "Yes, it will be ok." Then he exited the court house.


	10. Chapter 10

The next day, Spencer and I were sitting outside the court house waiting for Hotch. I was the police vehicle with Mr. Mattloff pull into the parking lot. About a row away was Mr. Corbin getting out of his car. Spencer and I both saw it; he was reaching for something in his suit pocket. "Stay. Here," Spencer demanded, and took off across the parking lot. Corbin didn't see him, he was focused on Mattloff, and he was pulling out a gun. I jumped to my feet, but I couldn't move. I didn't know what to do.

Spencer grabbed Corbin and held onto his wrist. He said something to him, but Corbin was still staring at Mattloff. I hurried over to them, I knew I shouldn't, there was a loaded gun and Spencer was between it and its target. I heard Corbin say, "I am thinking about Darcie." His eyes showed both pain and hatred.

I heard Spencer say something like "Give me the gun, you will be in jail and you will regret it".

"I'm already in prison," Corbin replied, but he let Spencer take the gun.

I closed the distance between myself and the two men. "Mr. Corbin," I said. He didn't look at me, his eyes still trained at Mattloff's back.

"How did you know?" He asked Spencer.

"Your affect, your demeanor, you were to calm yesterday, you called me by my first name."

"If you're so good at predicting things, how come you couldn't stop him before he took my Darcie?" Corbin demanded.

"Look I shouldn't say anything, but there's some new evidence," Spencer confessed.

"What new evidence?" Mr. Corbin asked.

Spencer started to pull me away. "Wait," I said. "Mr. Corbin?" I said again. This time he looked at me. "Mr. Corbin, I told you yesterday I know what it's like. I do. You said you felt like you couldn't protect Darcie. My mom was taken away from me. She made herself sick and died, and I couldn't do anything to help her. I felt like it was my fault but it's not. And it's not yours that Darcie's gone. So you need to understand that it's not your responsibility to avenge her death. You can't get back at the person who took her away, just because it hurts, neither can I. It will be ok. I promise you that." Corbin just looked at me. I turned away and walked into the court house with Spencer.

"Sara I told you to stay there, why did you follow me?" Spencer demanded "There was a loaded gun, you could have been killed."

"Spencer, he wasn't going to hurt you so he certainly wasn't going to hurt me."

Reid closed his eyes, trying to control himself. "Don't try to profile people Sara," he stressed, "You can't go putting yourself in danger like that."

"Well neither can you," I glared. Court began before we could continue.

A woman was on the stand, Mattloff's birth mother. She had given him up for adoption 37 years ago when he was a baby. She was Native American. I remembered what Spencer said about burying a body face down. It was a Native American belief he had told me about. Mattloff had tracked down his mother in 2003 and had wanted a relationship with her, to be part of her life. I could see Reid watching Mr. Corbin. So was I. I knew how he felt, wanting to get back at the person who took away your family. The woman on the stand was getting chocked up. Then she said she had received gifts from Mattloff, jewelry. Jewelry that had been taken off of Mattloff's victims. I saw Mr. Corbin shudder when Darcie's watch was displayed as evidence. Court adjourned once again. Mr. Corbin was visibly upset, and Mattloff was looking intensely at his mother, still on the witness stand. Mattloff was lead out and Spencer and I went out into the court house lobby.

Suddenly, security guards ran past us and an alarm went off. "What's going on?" I shouted over the noise.

"I think Mattloff may have gotten his memory back. I mean it this time Sara, stay here." And Spencer ran off after Hotch and the guards. A few minutes later he came back to me and grabbed my hand. "Mattloff's gone. He has a gun," he said as he pulled me into the parking lot.

Mattloff had stolen a clerk's car and taken off. "You put out an APB?" Hotch asked a guard.

"State wide, we'll block every road out of town."

"Don't forget service roads, he knows them all," Hotch added sternly.

"You know this guy right? Any idea where he might be headed?" The guard asked.

Spencer jumped in, still holding tightly onto my wrist. "It all depends on who he is." Mattloff's lawyer walked past us on his Blackberry, Hotch ran after him.

"Did you know?" Hotch demanded of him.

"Know what?" The lawyer asked, looking irritated.

"You talked to Mattloff every day. Did you know that his memory was coming back?"

"I don't have any idea what you're talking about" the lawyer said defensively.

"He can't help us," Spencer said turning to Hotch, relaxing his grip on my wrist slightly, "He's a paranoid personality, even if he was aware he wouldn't have told him anything," Spencer said quickly.

"Get Sara out of here, and then get over to the jail. Look for anything, any clue to tell us where he's headed," Hotch commanded Spencer, who carted me to an SUV.

Spencer put me in the passenger seat and ran around to the driver's side and started the car. "I don't have time to take you home, so you're coming to the jail with me. I need you to stay out of the way and keep quiet, all right." He said, but it wasn't a question.

"Ok Spencer." I kept quiet in the car, letting Spencer think. When we arrived at the jail he hurried in without me. I followed him in. He showed his credentials at the desk, pulled on a pair of latex gloves and asked to see Mattloff's cell. The guard didn't ask about me, just unlocked the door and left Spencer to his work. I watched intently. Spencer scoured every inch of the cell, checking anywhere Mattloff may have hidden something. He tore the sheets off the bed and lifted the thin mattress. Underneath was a stack of lined yellow paper. Glancing at each one, I knew he was reading every word; Spencer tore through the papers until he reached a pencil drawing of a waterfall surrounded by trees.

He pulled out his phone, "Hotch I think I know where he's going."

Spencer and I ran to the parking lot of the jail and got in a squad car. We drove quickly to a park, the same one where Mattloff had murdered and buried his victims, Spencer explained. We parked in the grass with the other police vehicles. "Any sign of him?" Spencer asked.

"He's got about a half hour head start on us," Hotch answered grimly.

Spencer showed Hotch the drawing. "There was a waterfall where Darcie Corbin's body was found."

"Yeah that's Lindale falls," the police officer said.

"That's where we need to go," Hotch agreed.

"I figured this guy would head straight out of town."

"He's looking for something," Hotch said thoughtfully.

"For what?" The cop asked.

"Himself."

Spencer pulled on a bulletproof vest and my heart started racing. He grabbed another from the back seat of the police car and started to put it on me. "Sara. You are going to sit in the police car with the doors locked, with this," Spencer commanded, opening the back door of the car. He pushed me onto the floor of the backseat and handed me the gun he had taken from Mr. Corbin. He pulled the radio from the front of the car into the back and handed me a walkie talkie. "You know what he looks like. If you see him, call us on this and don't let him see you." I nodded. Spencer pulled me into a hug. "I shouldn't have brought you, I'm sorry." He locked the doors and took off with the other agents and officers.


	11. Chapter 11

I can't tell you how long I waited in the car all alone. My heart was pounding so loud I could hear it. I was scared. I kept seeing the look on Spencer's face before he left. I could see so much regret. I knew he was upset at himself for putting me in danger. He just didn't know how much I could handle yet.

I looked down at the gun in my hands. It wasn't the first time I'd held one. I hoped this wouldn't be the first time I'd actually have to use one. I peeked through the door window of the car and looked outside. There was nothing there. Nothing and no one. I hadn't felt this alone in months.

I hadn't thought about that day in so long, I'd refused to let it enter my mind up until now. It was late June; it'd been 4 months since that day.

It was March when it happened. I'd walked home from school, really excited to show Mom the grade I'd gotten on a science paper, the highest grade in the class. The door of our one story home had been locked, so I had to use a key. I couldn't hear anything in the house. "Mom?" I'd called, but she hadn't answered. I'd set down my backpack, the paper was still in my hand. "Mom?" I'd called again. I walked down the hall and into her bedroom. The blinds were closed and she was lying on the bed on her side, facing away from me. I'd sat down on the edge and shook her by the shoulder. "Mom wake up, I want to show you my paper," I'd said. She didn't move.

"Mom, are you ok?" I'd asked her. I touched her arm, it was cold. "Mom, mom wake up" I asked her desperately. I'd rolled her onto her back and her eyes were closed. There was something underneath her. I'd reached under her and pulled out an empty bottle of pain meds. I'd jumped up from the bed and froze. "Mom. Please. You have to wake up please don't do this, please don't leave me."

My mother was dead. She'd left me behind.

I shook myself back to the present. My face had grown hot, and I blinked hard, refusing to cry. "Let it go Sara, forget it," I told myself.

Voices reminded me where I was. I grabbed the gun and checked the window again. The agents were back, they had Mattloff. There were tears running down his face. Still holding the gun, I unlocked the door. I stepped out and looked at the sea of officers, trying to find Spencer. He jogged over to me, looking relieved. "Sara, are you ok? I'm so sorry," he blurted. He looked so concerned, his eyes wide.

"Spencer I'm fine, really." He gave a slight smile, but his eyes still showed how bad he felt. "Just, promise not to leave me behind like that again."

He looked confused, "I couldn't exactly bring you with us to follow Mattloff, he was armed and paranoid, you…"

"Spencer," I interrupted, "just promise to never leave me."

He sighed, "I promise, circumstantially, if you promise not to come on any more cases."

I grinned; Spencer no longer looked so worried. "You'll be wanting this back?" I held out the gun to him.

"Yeah… you probably shouldn't have that. You know there are close to 500 gun related injuries involving minors every year?"

"Spencer"

"Yeah?" I reached out and hugged him, the side of my face against the bullet proof vest he was still wearing. He sort of patted my head until I let go, the overwhelmed look on his face was so comical I actually laughed outright.

The sound of my laughter attracted the attention of SSA Hotchner, who didn't look at all pleased to see me there. "Reid," Hotch said, taking Spencer by the arm and pulling him away from me slightly, "What is Sara doing here? I told you to take her away, not bring her into the direct path of an armed, paranoid murderer." Spencer's mouth was open, but no words came out. He was panicking.

I stepped over to them, "Hotch, it's not Spencer's fault. You told him to get me out of there and he did, he brought me to the jail. He didn't have time to take me somewhere safe so he brought me along. If he hadn't it might have been too late. Mattloff could have run off or killed himself by the time you would have found out where he was going."

Hotch was looking at me intently, like his eyes were trying to pierce my brain. "Fine. It was still irresponsible and it can never happen again." He released Reid, and started to turn away.

"Hotch," I called after him.

"What?" "That was really awesome how you took down Mattloff's lawyer the other day," I blurted out.

Hotch smiled and walked away.


	12. Chapter 12

Spencer got out of the SUV in front of Mr. Corbin's house. He wanted to return his daughter's watch to him, and tell him that Mattloff was going away for life. He'd changed his plea to guilty. I stayed in the car with Hotch, watching the back of his head from my seat in the back of the car.

I couldn't bring myself to face Mr. Corbin after that. I had told him it would be alright, I had promised. But I couldn't even get myself to believe it some days. "You were right earlier," Hotch said turning around.

"Right about what?" I asked, not meeting his gaze.

"About Reid doing the right thing, bringing you along. He shouldn't have put you in danger, but he was doing the job. That's what counts." I looked into Hotch's eyes; any trace of anger from earlier was gone now. "Something is bothering me though, Sara."

"What's that?"

"He left you with a gun you don't even know how to use."

My eyes widened slightly, more memories coming back; I managed to suppress them though. I looked out the window again; I could see Mr. Corbin and Reid still talking. "I know how to use a gun," I mumbled.

Hotch looked both surprised and concerned, "When did you..?"

"I've never actually used one," I interrupted. "My mom and I bought one after Dad left. She took a lesson and then showed me. She told me I should never have to use one though," I explained. I could see he understood.

"Regardless, I think you should learn."

"I could ask Spencer," I shrugged.

Hotch looked amused and smirked, "I don't think that's a good idea, he's failed his gun qualification a few times. Call me or Derek or Emily if you want to learn."

"Alright, thanks," I smiled back. Hotch really was nice, despite the cold face he often gave to the world.

Spencer got back in the SUV, Hotch turned around and we started the long drive back to Quantico. I fell asleep to the voices of the two men chatting in the front.


	13. Chapter 13

"So what do you think of Reid, really?" asked Emily, adjusting one of the shopping bags on her shoulder. I'd finally called in for my shopping day. JJ was busy and Penelope had gone on a short trip out of town, so Emily had driven me to Main Street and we'd been shopping in the little stores and boutiques for over an hour.

"Well, he's great of course. He doesn't talk much, but when he does he usually goes off on tandem about historic inaccuracies or accident statistics, but I'm sure you already know that," I said, glancing up at the female agent. She had known Spencer for about a year, and on her occasional visits to our apartment she would easily beat him at chess. It usually put Spencer in a bad mood for a few hours.

"Well yeah, but what's it like to live with him?"

I thought for another moment as we walked down the street. "You know, I don't think he's quite gotten used to me yet. Like he gets surprised that I'm there. Last week he actually jumped when I walked up behind him while he was watching TV."

Emily didn't seem surprised; she laughed and agreed, "That sounds like him."

"Oh, the other day I woke him up because I saw a spider, and he just looked at me for a minute and asked 'what do you want me to do about it?'" Emily and I both laughed. I smiled to myself, remembering the complete disbelief on his face during the incident. It had been so obvious he had entirely no idea why I wanted _him_ to get rid of the spider.

"Ok Emily, let me ask you a question about Boy Genius."

She raised her eyebrows, "ask away, kid."

I sighed, my face a bit red. "Did he use to have a crush on JJ?" I watched her jaw drop slightly and turn into a grin. My eye brows rose slightly.

She chuckled, "You know, I don't think I'm really fully qualified to answer that, I think if you want dirt on Reid you might want to ask Derek."

"Noted, thank you," I grinned up at her, pushing my glasses up the bridge of my nose a bit. "How about over there next?" I asked, pointing at a clothing store across the street.

"Looks good," Emily agreed, and we headed in.

By the end of the day I had accumulated 2 new pairs of Converse, 3 shorts, 3 pair of jeans, some blouses, hoodies, and a finger nail trimmer. Upon inspection of Reid's bathroom cupboards, it appeared that he kept his nails trimmed with scissors.

Emily dropped me off in front of the apartment, leaving me to carry all the bags to the apartment by myself. I tried to wave as she drove off, without disrupting any of my bags. I knew I wouldn't make it up the stairs so I took the elevator for the first time since I've been living here. When the door opened on the third floor, Spencer Reid was waiting for me, arms crossed, wearing a slight frown.

"What are you doing?" He asked.

"What do you mean?"I asked innocently, and stepped out of the elevator, still balancing the 6 bags I'd been carrying.

"You know there are 6 elevator deaths each year, and 10,000 injuries that require hospitalization."

"Yes I do know, dear, sweet Spencer, but please attempt to realize that as much as you try, I simply will not develop an irrational fear of elevators." I smiled up at his sweetly, "now be a lamb and help me with these bags."

He smirked at me. "Hmmm, no. I don't think so."

"What do you mean no?" I demanded, laughing a bit.

Spencer shrugged and turned away, hands in his pockets and walked towards the apartment. "Clearly if you could get them into an elevator death trap, you can get them into the apartment," he replied, shutting the door in my face.

"Spencer, open the door!" I called, kicking the door. My hands weren't free, and I was balancing another bag between my arms. "Spencer! You take an elevator ride everyday at work!" I called again, just as the bags fell out of my grip. "Oh come on!" I called through the door. "I hope you're happy," I yelled as the contents of my bags spilled out onto the floor.

"Very happy!" he called back. He'd been standing directly at the other side of the door. I could hear him laughing. I threw open the door and started hauling in my purchases.

Later than evening I was sitting at the kitchen table, watching my brother. He had fallen asleep watching classic Doctor Who on BBC America. I started to think about Emily's question again_: "So what do you think of Reid, really?" _I sat there with my chin resting in my palm, looking at him.

I think that Doctor Spencer Reid is a know-it-all with a too often smart aleck attitude. He's cross some days, but he's mostly warm and caring. Incredibly awkward most of the time. He takes things too literally and really doesn't know a thing about teenage girls. He gets really excited about little things that interest him, and can't cook to save his life. He's fun and hyper and drinks too much coffee. Spencer Reid is a genius who frequently seems lost. He is completely brilliant, and he's my brother, and I love him for it.


	14. Chapter 14

_Authors note: Episodes 3x20 Lo-Fi and 4x01 Mayhem_

I had been hoping it would be a normal case. I really, really had.

Spencer's team, including Garcia, had gone to New York to investigate a spree of what appeared to be completely random murders. I had been bumming around the apartment, limiting my movements to food and bathroom trips, when I got a call from Spencer late in the evening.

"What's up Reidikins?" I'd asked, suppressing a laugh.

"Excuse me?" Spencer had asked.

"What? You don't like it? I've been coming up with names for you all day," I'd laughed outright; I could practically see him shaking his head. "So what's up?" I asked again.

"JJ's pregnant."

I jumped up off the couch, my jaw dropping open. "Are you serious? Oh my goodness, really?" I'd squealed into the phone.

"Yeah, um, Will showed up at our hotel, and she told us. Prentiss, Hotch and I, I mean." There was something there in his voice that was off.

"Hang on, what's wrong Spencer?" I asked worriedly.

"What? Nothing. Nothing's wrong, why do you ask?" he blurted out.

"Never mind," I said. We hung up a few minutes later.

I had so wanted it to be a normal case.

A few phone calls to Reid throughout the week, and I learned that a detective with Prentiss had been shot, and she had killed the unsub. Case solved? No. Multiple unsubs.

I was watching the evening news, looking for anything about the case, since I hadn't heard from Spencer yet. And then I saw it. There had been an explosion near the federal plaza, the news helicopter showed a black SUV, burning at the shoulder of an empty road. I sprang to my feet. "Please no," I said into the silence. I bit my and started pacing. "Please, please, no." I was shaking.

I grabbed the phone and called Spencer. No answer. "No, no, no, no, no," I was pleading, "Answer!" I yelled into the phone. I redialed, still nothing. My knuckles were white, holding the phone to my ear. I dialed again and tried to call Morgan. Nothing. "Please answer!" I begged the phone. I called Hotch. No service. _"Please don't do this to me,"_ I begged the agents, knowing they couldn't hear me.

"_It has been confirmed that there was a car bomb inside an SUV, a black SUV just blocks from federal plaza."_ The news reporter was trying to kill me.

"NO, NO, NO. This is not happening," I told myself. "They're just busy. They just have their phones turned off. I shouldn't call again, they're just working" I tried to sound as convincing as possible. I sat down on the edge of the couch, my fingers tangled in my hair. I stared at the floor. "They're fine. He's fine," I kept telling myself.

"Penelope," I said aloud. I dialed again. The phone rang.

"Sara, I really can't…" Thankfully she picked up.

"Penelope! Thank you thank you! I saw the news. Where is everyone, where's Spencer?" I demanded. My stomach was in knots.

"I don't know where he is, but he should be fine. Morgan and Emily are ok. But Hotch…"

"What happened?" I begged through the phone. "There was a car bomb; he and another agent got hit with the blast. I don't know what happened to them" Garcia's voice was flooded with anxiety.

"Find them Garcia, please." I hung up.

She had the best chance of finding them was if she was free from distraction. I curled up on the sofa, pulling my knees to my chin. My head and heart were pounding and my stomach was filled with acid. "_Please come home, please come home_" I whispered to myself, and buried my head in my arms. I didn't want to lose anyone else, not yet, not ever again.

I don't know when or how I fell asleep, but when I woke up in the morning I heard the phone ringing. "Hello?"

"Sara, it's me." It was Spencer.

Tears rose up in my eyes, "Hotch? Where's Hotch?" my voice was shaking.

"He's fine, he's alright. Everyone's alright" I closed my eyes and pressed my hand to my forehead. I exhaled a shaky breath, "You're coming home?" I asked.

"We're coming home."

Spencer filled me in during the jet flight home. Morgan had risked his life to get an ambulance containing a massive bomb out of the city. He'd barely made it out when it exploded in Central Park. He and Hotch were driving back together because of an injury to Hotch's ear from the explosion, and he couldn't take the jet. I took a bus to Quantico. I had an official visitors pass now, and went to wait for the team to return.

I ran to meet them all when they got off the elevator, relief flooding my face. I held on to each of them, thankful they were home. The team and I waited for Hotch and Morgan to get there. When they arrived I rushed towards them and embraced Hotch. "I'm happy you're back," I'd whispered into his jacket.

Morgan stood there, watching us. I let go of Hotch and looked and Morgan intently. He raised an eyebrow and asked, "Aren't you happy to see me, Glasses?"

I smiled slightly and walked over to him, his arms open. "YOU COMPLETE AND TOTAL IDIOT! HOW COULD YOU DO SOMETHING LIKE THAT?" I yelled, pummeling his chest with punches. He didn't seem fazed. "IT WAS COMPLETELY IRRISPONSIBE! WHAT WERE YOU THINKING DEREK MORGAN?" I continued.

Finally I let up and grabbed onto him. He wrapped his arms around me and smiled, "Nice to see you too Little Reid."


	15. Chapter 15

_Author's note: Takes place just before 4x02 the Angel Maker_

I woke up Saturday morning and found my room usually warm. The rest of the apartment was hotter than usual as well. I wandered out into the kitchen, fanning my face with my hand. "Why is it so hot?" I whined to Spencer, who was somehow downing a steaming mug of coffee. He was wearing his horn rimmed glasses today, and the sleeves of his shirt were rolled up.

"Well, the northern hemisphere on is tilted towards the sun during the summer months," he began to ramble, "you would actually think it would be hottest in the winter months, since the Earth is closest to the sun at that point, but at that same time, the northern hemisphere is tilted away from the sun," he explained, demonstrating the tilt of the Earth with his hands.

"… _Alright._ How do we make ourselves feel less of the heat?" I specified, hopping slightly with frustration. Spencer took another sip of his coffee as the phone rang. I walked into the living room to answer it, my bare feet sticking to the hardwood a bit with every step. "Hello?" I asked.

"Hey Glasses," said Morgan, "you kids feeling the heat?" I glanced back at Reid, leaned against the counter, still chugging the steaming drink.

"Well, I am," I stated.

"You Reids want to come over and use my pool? The girls are here already," Morgan invited. I could picture Morgan sitting poolside with the female profilers.

"Sounds good, I'll ask Spencer."

"See you soon kid." I smiled into the phone and hung up. I walked back to the kitchen. "Spencer, we are going swimming at Morgan's house. Go get changed before you roast, please." I commanded. Despite the heat, Spencer was still wearing one of the button downs usually worn at work, full length pants, and the usual mismatched socks.

He reluctantly set down his second cup of coffee, "wait, when was this decided?"

"Just now. By me. Let's go!" I explained, heading back to my room to change.

I put on the blue two piece swim suit Penelope had insisted I buy, and a pair of cutoff shorts I'd made recently from an old pair of jeans. I shoved a change of clothes into my bag and peeked down the hall. Spencer was still in the kitchen, he hadn't changed. I shrugged and ducked into his room, opened his closet and pulled out 2 of his t-shirts. I dug through his dresser quickly and found an old pair of swim trunks at the bottom of his drawer. I put on one of the shirts over my swim suit and put the rest in my bag.

"Ready to go?" I asked, frowning again at his choice of clothing.

"Yeah, let's go," he said as he picked up a thermos, probably full of coffee, and two books.

I smirked, "Only two?" I questioned as we headed out the door.

He shrugged, "I plan on reading slowly."

Spencer parked his car in front of Morgan's house and we headed up the driveway. The gate leading to the backyard was open and we went inside. Morgan's backyard featured a large, rectangular, in-ground pool in which the agent was swimming laps. Penelope and JJ were lounging poolside and Emily was enjoying the hot tub on the large deck. The three women waved hello, Spencer raised his hand in greeting. Morgan lifted himself out of the pool and went to greet us, Penelope lowering her sunglasses to watch him.

"Glad you kids could make it," he greeted, glancing at Spencer's attire. "Kid, what are you wearing?" he asked, giving Spencer a questioning look.

"Why, why does everyone keep asking about my clothes?" Spencer asked, flustered, "I'm from Nevada, I'm use to the heat, ok" he stated, jerking his arms a bit.

"Goodness Spencer, it's just a question," I said.

He glanced down at me, "Wait is that my shirt?" He asked suddenly, noticing for the first time what I was wearing.

"Yeah, so?" I asked, raising an eyebrow.

"You can't just take my shirt, you can't go in my closet," he said quickly. I took a step back, tilting my head in challenge.

"Well, I did," I shrugged, dropping my bag on the grass.

"Sara, give me my shirt back!" he protested, dropping the thermos and books as well.

"No, I don't think so…" I taunted, taking another step. Spencer reached forward, but I jumped back and started running.

"Sara! Sara, give me my shirt! You can't have my clothes!" Spencer shouted, chasing me around the pool. I giggled madly, staying just out of his reach.

"Run kid!" shouted Morgan, as the women cheered me on. Spencer grabbed for my arm, but missed. I dove into the water in front of JJ and Penelope, escaping my brother. I resurfaced quickly and grinned, arching my eyebrows in victory.

"Don't give up yet Spence!" JJ cried, pushing Spencer into the pool, fully clothed.

I screamed, Spencer swam to the top, his glasses askew, looking like a drowned rat. He spit out some water and glared at JJ and me. "That," he insisted, "was not funny, guys."

"I beg to differ, Reid," Emily called from the hot tub, still laughing.

"My clothes are all wet now, Sara" he continued, wiping his eyes.

"Well now that you're all wet, you may as well swim," I suggested.

"I don't have a swimsuit with me," he argued.

"Yes you do," I said, climbing out and retrieving my bag. Spencer followed me out. "Here," I said, tossing him the trunks and shirt I'd taken from his room.

He frowned again, "Fine," he said, and headed into Morgan's house, mumbling something about putting child safety locks on everything. I rolled my eyes. He had just shut the door behind him when I heard a loud dog barking.

"Clooney!" Morgan yelled, jogging into the house as well to silence the dog. He returned a minute later. "Forgot about that," he stated, smiling.

"About what?" I asked.

"Hotch calls it 'The Reid Effect,' happens around animals and small children," Morgan explained, all of us laughing at my poor brother's expense.

"This actually isn't the first time a blonde got Pretty Boy into a pool fully clothed," Morgan began, pouring himself a glass of lemonade.

"No way, who?" I demanded, ringing out Reid's shirt on the deck.

Morgan grinned, "Ever heard of Lila Archer?"

My jaw must have dropped to the floor. "You mean the actress from the stupid show about beach volleyball?" I asked. "_The really annoyingly pretty one_?"

"The very same," Morgan confirmed, making a kissing sound. I started jumping up and down; my face broke out into a grin, pool water flying off me. The agents watched me in amusement. "No way no way no way!" I squealed. "_The_ Lila Archer? You mean that she kissed Spencer, _our_ Spencer? In a pool?" I demanded, completely shocked. The other agents nodded, grinning almost as much as I was. Derek told me the story quickly, my eyes still lit up in surprise. He had just finished the epic retelling when Spencer came back out, having changed into the suit and t shirt, and eyed us all suspiciously.

"What have you been telling her?" He asked, pointing to me.

"Nothing Pretty Boy, absolutely nothing," Morgan insisted. I pulled my wet T-Shirt and shorts off, and dove back into the pool, with just my suit on this time.

"Jump in, Spencer!" I called. He glared at the other profilers, watching him intensely as he took off his t-shirt. Garcia, to my amusement, let out a loud wolf-whistle. He jumped in, Morgan following close behind. "Hey Spence!" I yelled, "You should have worn a suit _the first time this happened_!"

Spencer's face dawned in recognition. He turned quickly to Morgan, "I'm gonna kill you!" he shouted, dunking Derek under water. "Get back here!" he yelled after me as I tried to paddle away.

"Emily, help!" I screamed as he pushed me under as well. She dove in to my rescue, and it quickly turned into a water battle. Even JJ and Garcia were soaked by the time we had called a truce.

At least I'd escaped the summer heat for one day.


	16. Chapter 16

_"Get out!" I screamed at Richard, holding the hand gun at my side. "Don't you dare come back!" My mother's boyfriend backed out the front door, glaring daggers at me. My mother was watching anxiously from across the room, her face pale, already turning purple with bruises. She ran towards the door. _

_"Rich wait! Don't leave!" She called after him, but he had already driven away. She turned and took the gun from me, throwing it on the couch. "Look what you did!" She yelled at me, her face level with mine, "How could you be so stupid? We could have worked this out!" She cried, her left eye swelling. "You always mess things up for me!" She sobbed. Hot tears rose into my eyes as she continued to yell, "Now he'll never come back, and it's your fault!"_

I shook myself awake, shaking. The same dream again, one of many. I'd been having them since the Mattloff incident. I rubbed away the tears that had been forming. I inhaled deeply, trying to calm myself, when I heard a noise coming from down the hall. I got up and silently walked to Spencer's room, shutting the door behind me. He was still asleep. I shook him awake and whispered, "Spencer, I heard a noise in the kitchen." He blinked a few times. "Can you go check?" I asked.

He pushed his hair out of his face and nodded. "Yeah, yeah sure." He got up and walked out, shutting the door behind him.

I was sitting on the edge of Spencer's bed, waiting. I stood up quickly; I heard voices, two of them. I cracked the door open and looked down the hall. There was Spencer, his arms raised; there was another man with his back to me. He had a gun aimed at Spencer. I ran to his bedside table and opened the drawer. My hands shaking slightly, I pulled out the Glock 17 my brother brought to work every day. It was loaded.

I crept deftly down the hall, the gun raised. The man and Spencer were talking heatedly, the gun still aimed at my brother. The intruder was facing away from me, but Spencer saw me, his eyes going wide. The man's head turned toward me, the gun shifted away from Spencer slightly. I didn't even blink. I didn't hesitate. I fired one shot into the back of the man's shoulder. The gun and the man both fell to the floor. Spencer quickly took the intruder's fire arm and picked up the phone, dialing 911. I kept my weapon trained on the man, never looking away.

The man was squirming, trying to hold onto his injured shoulder. "Stay still," I commanded, my voice curiously dead. Spencer hung up the phone. He walked around the intruder, lying injured on our floor, and took the gun from me.

"I want you to call… call Morgan," he instructed me nervously. I finally looked away from the man and dialed the phone.

When Morgan answered I told him in as few words as possible what had happened, and asked him to come over. I was just hanging up when the police arrived. A paramedic carted the almost-robber away, and an officer went to talk to Spencer. He explained that I had shot the man using his gun from work. Spencer also showed the man his FBI credentials. I had been sitting on the couch hunched over, my hands clasped together, staring at the floor. The officer glanced over at me, and assured Reid that there was nothing to worry about; I'd simply been acting in self-defense. There was no need to look into it further. He walked over to me and patted me on the shoulder, "nice work miss," the officer complimented me. I nodded and he left.

Morgan arrived just moments later. Spencer was cleaning the blood off the floor, and I hadn't changed my position. "Are you two alright?" Morgan asked immediately. His eyes widened when he saw the blood on the floor. "What happened?" I might have left out the bit where I shot someone when I talked to him on the phone. Spencer quietly explained how I had unarmed the man holding him at gun point, both of them turning to look at me occasionally, their faces full of concern. Morgan walked over to me, sitting down on the couch beside me. I looked up to glance at him, his eyes showed both worry and curiosity. "Glasses?" he asked. I didn't answer. "Sara?" he asked again, putting an arm around my shoulders. "Come on, look at me kid," he said quietly.

Finally I unfroze; tears welling up in my eyes. Morgan pulled me closer to him. "Shhh, it's ok, it's ok," he soothed, Spencer looking on from the kitchen, his face a mixture of sadness and exhaustion.

"That was really scary," I whispered into Morgan's shirt.

"I know kid, I know."

Morgan left soon after, leaving Reid to flutter around me nervously. I was visibly both physically and emotionally drained. "I uh, I think you need to get some sleep," Spencer suggested, pulling me up gently from the couch. I held onto him, the tears returning.

"He was going to shoot you," I sobbed, unable to control myself, "I…I didn't know what to do," I continued. "I just wanted to help her!" I cried, the memory of my nightmare returning to me. "But she wouldn't listen! I got the gun and made him go away, but she just got mad at me! She got mad and I just wanted to help," I choked up, my tears soaking Spencer's shirt.

Spencer sat me back down on the couch. I was sniffling, a few tears still dripping from my face. "What are you talking about Sara?" he asked me. I recounted my nightmare, a memory from when I was thirteen. Mom had gotten into a bad relationship. Her boyfriend had beaten her up the night I got the gun and chased him away. She was in denial though, and had insisted that they could have worked it out.

"Rich was a scumbag," I told Spencer, who had listened intently. "And I had to get rid of him. I got Mom's gun and scared him away," I continued, "So when I saw that man in the kitchen, I ran and got your gun. I've never shot someone though. I didn't want to, but he had a gun. I had to make him go away," I finished, exhaling deeply. Spencer nodded, deep in thought.

"I'm tired, I want to go to bed," I told him. He reached over to me hesitantly, and wiped the remaining tears from my face. He walked me to my room and then went to his own. I lay in my bed for an hour, staring at the ceiling, unable to sleep. Finally, I picked up my pillow and a blanket and walked into Spencer's room. He sat up immediately and looked at me.

"Can I sleep in your room tonight Spencer?" I asked quietly, my blanket dragging behind me. I felt like a little kid.

"Sure, sure," he said, sliding to one side of his bed. I lay down on top of the covers and settled in with my blanket and pillow. Spencer gave me as much room as possible without falling out of the bed. I smiled at his efforts to accommodate the new sleeping arrangement, and fell asleep almost instantly.


	17. Chapter 17

_Author's note: Episode 4x03 Minimal Loss_

I was a little nervous about staying home by myself, despite Spencer's reassurance that the odds of another home break in were almost zero, and that the break in two days ago was completely random. Since he couldn't convince me, he brought me to work with him so I could stay with Garcia.

As soon as I walked into the BAU, it was just like the first time I'd been there. Emily, JJ, Morgan, Penelope, even Hotch and Rossi were standing around waiting for us. My face flushed red and I walked over to the group quickly, they didn't even attempt to hide their interest this time.

"Hear any good stories lately?" I asked the group, my eyebrows raised slightly. They all stood there, a few of them glancing at the floor.

Finally Penelope spoke, "Oh my precious baby Reid, you were so brave!" she cried, wrapping me in a tight hug. When she released me, after a solid minute, the other agents jumped in.

"Sara, you took down an armed subject with one shot?" Emily asked earnestly. I nodded, not making eye contact with any of them. Rossi and JJ looked impressed, but Hotch suddenly looked suspicious.

Hotch stepped towards me and pulled me away from the group, which disbanded quickly. "You told me you'd never used a weapon," he stated, watching me closely. Spencer was sitting on a nearby desk, looking unsure whether to intervene.

"That wasn't entirely true," I started, "when I said I'd never fired a gun, I meant at someone," I specified. Hotch frowned. "I used to practice in the clearing behind our house." Then I was quiet.

Finally he nodded, and after a long pause, "Good work. But I'm still taking you to the firing range. Soon." Hotch gave me one of his rare smiles, and went to his office. I sighed in relief, and went to find Garcia.

About an hour later, Spencer and Emily stopped by Garcia's tech cave to tell us they were leaving. "Just you two?" I asked.

"We're just going to investigate this call we got from a religious community," Emily explained.

"Religious community?" I asked.

"More of a compound actually," she clarified.

"You mean one of those religious cult type places, where?"

She nodded and said "Colorado."

"Well have fun you two" I smiled.

"Oh yeah, lots of fun," Spencer replied sarcastically. They waved goodbye to me and Garcia, and left.

"Guess it's just you and me for a few days kiddo," Garcia exclaimed, spinning around in her office chair.

I grinned and looked at the monitors, "What are you doing?" I asked.

"Something you probably should not know about" she said, quickly clicking the screen away.

"Still looking for the truth about Princess Diana?" I asked, eyebrows arching.

She grinned mischievously, "When I do, you will be the first to know, Pixie."

After a few hours with Penelope I got some coffee and went to sit with Morgan. He was asking me about how I've been doing since the break in, when JJ rushed over to us, looking stressed. "Morgan!" she called, pointing a remote at the TV and turning it on to a news channel.

"_What is reportedly being called a routine questions and answers meeting by Colorado child services, has turned into a violent and deadly standoff between Colorado authorities and a fringe religious group known as the Separatarian sect." _Morgan and I got to our feet.

"JJ that's not the ranch where Prentiss and Reid are…?" He asked.

"They're still inside," she answered, never tearing her eyes from the screen. My heart dropped to my stomach.

"HOTCH!" Morgan yelled. I turned and saw Agents Rossi and Hotchner rush out of their offices. "The TV, Prentiss and Reid," he told the two men, who both looked at the screen is shock.

_"It is believed at least three child service workers are still inside," _the reporter continued, just as the BAU exploded with the ringing of phones.

"Alright, that means we're the lead with hostage rescue and support," Hotch called, addressing all the agents in the room. "Let's go."

JJ, Hotch, Morgan and Rossi took off, I assumed to the jet. I stayed where I was. I couldn't move. I couldn't breathe. I just stood there thinking, 'not again, not again.'


	18. Chapter 18

I bolted to Garcia's office, and slammed the door behind me, my back to the wall. "Penelope," I whispered, my heart thudding in my chest sporadically.

"I know sweetie, I know," she answered. Penelope looked panicked. I put a hand to my forehead.

"I don't want to do this again," I said aloud.

I sat down on the bench against the wall and looked at one of the screens, showing the news report. This, I decided, would be my home until they came back. I felt so helpless. I couldn't do anything to bring Prentiss and Reid home. I was ready to blame anyone, Hotch or JJ for sending them, Penelope for not looking into it more; I even blamed Spencer and Emily for just being there.

_"The situation turned deadly when the Colorado police tried to serve a warrant. Colorado Attorney General Jim Wells says 'the reclusive cult has been the subject of a six month weapons investigation.'" _

My fists tightened. "We didn't know about this?" I asked Garcia angrily. She was about to answer when the team, the members that weren't being held hostage that is, popped up on her screen.

"What do we know about the sect?" Rossi asked, turning toward their laptop.

"Liberty Ranch was founded in 1980 by Libertarian Leo Cain as a self-sustaining commune." She responded, pulling information from several monitors. I got up and sat down next to her so I could see the agents better.

"Libertarians believe that everyone has the right to do what they want as long as they aren't interfering with the rights of others." Morgan explained, reminding me of Spencer.

"But Libertarians aren't religious," Rossi continued, "Clearly this sect has abandoned Libertarian principles."

"Benjamin Cyrus, the current leader introduced religion eight years ago when Cain left," said Hotch.

"Garcia, what do we have on Cyrus?" Morgan asked, the agents turning back to us.

"We've got nothing, like the guy never cast a shadow on the known universe." She said, leaving the team looking as frustrated as I felt. "However the former leader, Leo Cain, is doing a seventeen year stretch at Deerfield Federal Prison. Apparently Libertarians do not like paying taxes."

I was listening closely, trying to take in as much as I could. "Seventeen years for tax evasion?" Morgan asked, looking skeptical.

"Oh no, that would be two years for tax evasion and fifteen for going after four IRS agents with a Louisville slugger," Garcia clarified, making a swinging motion with her arms.

"Someone go talk to Cain, he's our best chance of finding out who were dealing with," Hotch told the agents on the plane. Garcia gave them a small smile and signed off.

I exhaled heavily. "What now? Is there anything we can do?" I asked weakly. She got up a pulled me into a hug, her face a sad smile.

"Not right now baby doll," she said to me in a comforting voice. It didn't make me feel any better. I settled back onto my bench and stared blankly at the screen, waiting for more news.

The only news the reporter told us for the rest of the day was that there was little activity at the ranch. I would glare at the reporter every time they replayed the same bulletin. Finally in the late afternoon Rossi called. "Reid and Prentiss are ok," he told us, "but the child service agent with them was killed earlier today." I had started shaking again at that news. "We've got ears inside; I'll call if anything major happens." I didn't say anything during the entire call.

I put my head back against the wall, I hated waiting like this.

"Charles Malgroove, convicted at the age of eighteen on three counts of statutory rape," Garcia told the agents in Colorado. I was pacing around her office, finally we were getting somewhere.

"So we need to talk to the warden," Morgan stated from the other end of the line.

"Way ahead of you honey, Mr. Malgroove's warden said that once inside, Malgroove found religion and became a model citizen."

"Well it's not that hard to behave when you're in protective custody," Morgan pointed out.

"General population's a rough place for a child molester," Hotch added.

"No, no, I don't think you guys understand, he was a _model_ _citizen," _Penelope stressed, "This guy volunteered at the prison hospital, the AIDS ward, he was reading to prisoners dying of HIV."

"Good stuff," Morgan said.

"Straight up, now get our friends back baby," Garcia told them, and hung up.

I turned the volume back up on the screen displaying the news. The reporter at the ranch was back on. "Penelope," I said, pointing at the monitor.

"_Now well into its second day, the standoff at the Secretariat ranch has been taken over by the FBI. There is much speculation in regard to hostages," _the reporter said. I grabbed a fistful of my hair, stress flooding my system, "_According to sources inside the state Attorney General's office, they have told us there is an undercover FBI agent currently being held inside the Secretariat sect ranch."_

"Penelope!" I said again, my voice shaking.

"_Hostage negotiators say they are making headway with the sect's leadership and are hopeful for a positive outcome. There is still no word as to why an undercover FBI agent was sent in alone." _

I screamed in frustration, collapsing back onto the bench. I pressed against the sides of my head tightly, trying to calm down. Garcia looked at me, immensely concerned. "Those idiots!" I yelled "Why would they broadcast something like that?" I demanded, as though Penelope would know the answer. She looked like she wanted to say something reassuring, anything to make me feel better, but she stayed quiet.

I hated this; I was so desperate to do something, anything to help my brother and my friend. But there was nothing I could do.


	19. Chapter 19

There was no more news, no more calls. Penelope wanted to send me home or to her apartment, but I refused. I wouldn't leave the building until they came back. If they came back. I was exhausted; I hadn't slept in well over 36 hours. At about 4 am I wandered out of Penelope's office, she didn't try to stop me, just watched me walk out sadly. I knew what this must be doing to her, but right now, I didn't care.

I passed by some agents, most on the phone, and went up to Hotch's office. There was a small sofa in there. I shut the door, office blinds and turned the lights off. I curled up on the little couch and fell into an uneasy sleep. All of my nightmares came back to me that night, every single one, but I couldn't wake up from them. I remembered the night Rich had hit my Mom, the day I found her dead. I even remembered the morning my Dad left. But there were new nightmares now. I dreamed that Hotch had been killed in the explosion, the Mattloff had found me in the police car by myself, that the robber had shot Spencer, and that he and Emily would never come home.

I woke up late the next afternoon, shaking and sweaty. I sat there in Hotch's office for a while, rocking back and forth. I finally went to get some coffee, and could barely finish one cup. Penelope came to find me, her eyes showed how worried she was. She took me down to the cafeteria and convinced me to eat, 'Because Spencer would be mad at her if I was sick when he came back.' I couldn't help but silently insert the word 'if' every time she said 'when they come back.'

The two of us were glued to the monitor for hours. No one called us until nightfall. "We're going in at 3 am," Rossi told us. More waiting. I dozed off again, still not feeling rested, but at least there were no more nightmares.

Garcia shook me awake at 2:30 am. My stomach twisting in knots. We put the news on, and waited. I stared at the monitor, thinking that maybe if I thought hard enough, Spencer and Emily would be able to hear me. 'Spencer, Emily, I need both of you to come home, I swear I will never forgive you if you don't come back' I repeated to myself, desperately hoping they would listen.

At 2:45 the news reporter at Liberty Ranch was back on. "_This is a special report from La Plata County, Colorado. We're reminded of Jim MacKay's words, 'Our greatest hopes and our worst fears are seldom realized.' Let's hope for the latter, as we wait to hear the fate of the women, children, and FBI agents inside the building…" _I grabbed Garcia's hand. A huge explosion erupted behind the reporter, and my heart stopped. "Oh, my gosh," I heard Garcia whisper, her eyes filling with tears. I couldn't think anything but one word.

"No," I said aloud, not daring to believe it.

We both sat there, completely still, fixed on the screen. The building was in flames.

The phone rang; I sprang up and grabbed it without thinking. "I knew you two would be watching," Hotch shouted into the phone, I heard lots of commotion in the background.

"Spencer? …Emily?" I asked. My heart was racing; I almost didn't want to know the answer anymore.

"They're alright, they're safe."

I was so overwhelmed I almost dropped the phone, "THEY'RE ALRIGHT!" I screamed to Garcia, who jumped up and spun about the room.

"Sara I've gotta go!" Hotch was calling through the phone, I'd almost forgotten he was still on the line.

"All of you get back here as fast as you can," I told him before he hung up.

It felt like this huge weight was lifted off me, I almost couldn't stand how perfect everything was. My brother and my friend were coming back. They were alive, they were safe. Garcia and I danced around the office, our joy filling the entire room.

They were back the next morning; I was surprised I hadn't been escorted out of the building. I'd been skipping and running through the halls for hours, waiting for the team's return. The other agents would look at me and smile, I was completely carefree.

Before the elevator doors were even fully open I was there in the elevator with them. I pushed past Hotch and Rossi and grabbed Spencer, crushing his ribs. "I really, really missed you," I said, grinning up at him. He actually hugged me back, a first for him really. He usually just stood there, or patted me on the head. I dragged him off the elevator, and looked for Prentiss.

Her face was covered in bruises. My breath caught in my throat, looking at her. Her left eye was swollen, purple marks dotting her face. She looked at me sadly, "It's not as bad as it looks," she assured me.

I bit my lip nervously, not looking away. I gave her a hug and asked, "Are you ok?"

She nodded earnestly. "I'll be back to normal in a few days," she promised me.

"Who did this to you?" I asked angrily.

"Don't worry kid, he's already been taken care of," Morgan answered for her.


	20. Chapter 20

"Spencer!" I yelled from the kitchen. "Spencer! We're out of… everything!" I yelled again. It was true, I'd gotten up this morning to have cereal and there was barely anything in our fridge. Upon further inspection I had found less than a quarter gallon of milk, a bottle of ranch dressing, and an empty container of butter. Everything else was gone.

Spencer walked over to me to look as well, drying his wet hair with a towel. "Why didn't you say something yesterday?" he asked, looking at me quizzically. We were now both hunched over, peering into our almost barren refrigerator.

"Because there was food in it yesterday," I insisted, "It vanished."

"You must have eaten it," Spencer reasoned, opening up the container of butter to inspect it more closely.

"You're saying I ate all of this, and then what? Forgot?" I asked. He shrugged.

"What are you two doing?" A voice from behind us asked. Spencer and I jumped; he banged his head on the fridge.

"Uh, Morgan, how did you get in here?" Spencer asked, rubbing the back of his head. The profiler was standing behind our kitchen counter, looking down his nose at us curiously. Morgan held up a key, as if it were obvious. My jaw dropped slightly as Morgan pushed past us gently and pulled out the remainder of our milk, and began to down the rest straight from the container.

"You!" I exclaimed, pointing a finger at him accusingly.

"Me what?" he asked, wiping some milk off his lip with the back of his hand.

"You ate all our food!" I said glaring, placing my hands on my hips.

"Sorry," he shrugged, not looking the least bit concerned.

Spencer shook his head, "wait, wha… when were you in our apartment?" Spencer demanded.

"Last night," Morgan said, by way of an explanation.

"When last night?" I asked, starting to get frustrated.

"You guys were out, so I let myself in," he said, still not seeming to care. I raised an eyebrow. "You guys were out, I came in, watched a little TV, had a snack and left," he explained, obviously not seeing the problem. "I knocked," he added.

Spencer walked into the living room and turned on the TV, ESPN was on. "I didn't even know we got that channel," I muttered.

Morgan walked past me and plopped down on the sofa and put his feet up on the coffee table, I was beginning to get the picture. Spencer backed out of the living room, staring at Morgan in disbelief. "Did you know he had a key?" I whispered to him. He shrugged again. Finally I marched into the living room and turned off the television.

"Hey!" Morgan protested.

"You, Derek Morgan, are taking us to the store. Right now. And buying us more food," I demanded.

The profiler raised his hands in defeat, "Alright, alright, whatever you say Little Reid," he said.

I jumped onto Derek's back, "You also have to carry me to the car," I added.

Morgan laughed, "Yes ma'am."

I glanced over at Spencer, and laughed at the completely lost look on his face. "So you've just forgiven him for eating all our food?" he asked, entirely flummoxed.

"Yeah, basically," I responded amusedly. We marched out the door, Spencer still rubbing the bump on his head.


	21. Chapter 21

"Why don't seagulls live by the bay?"

"They do live by the bay."

I pressed my fist to my forehead. Despite an IQ of 187, Doctor Spencer Reid was unable to comprehend a basic joke. My brother and I were sitting on the sofa in the living room. He had been watching something on the History Channel when I decided to test his sense of humor, it wasn't going well.

"Because then they'd be bagels," I finished. Spencer looked at me expectantly. "Don't you get it?" I asked.

"But they'd still be seagulls, despite where they live geographically," Spencer reasoned.

I sighed, "No, no, Spencer, the joke is that if the seagulls lived at the bay they'd be called bay-gulls, which sounds like bagels, the food. Got it?"

Spencer blinked, "nice joke," he deadpanned.

I turned around so I was facing him directly, sitting with my ankles crossed and knees out. He was still looking at the television, obviously trying to ignore me. "Ok, the past, the present and the future all walk into a bar at the same time. It was tense," I tried. He glanced at me, still no reaction.

"Ok let's try this again!" I said hopefully, "I was wondering why the Frisbee was getting bigger, and then it hit me." The corners of his mouth turned up slightly. I pointed directly at his face, "YOU THOUGHT IT WAS FUNNY!" I shouted.

"Did not," he said, still focusing on the TV.

"Admit it," I said, poking him in the arm.

"No."

"Admit it."

"No."

"Admit it."

"No."

"ADMIT. IT."

"No." I turned away and pouted, crossing my arms across my chest. I stuck out my lower lip and glared at him, still no response.

Finally, after about fifteen minutes of pouting, sighing, and making faces at Spencer, he shut off the TV and turned around. "What does Star Trek's Doctor Bones McCoy say before he performs brain surgery on a blonde?" He asked, one eyebrow raised, "Space. The final frontier," he concluded and smiled wryly.

I turned my head to one side. "Big words" I stated, mildly impressed at his efforts. "But don't you know why blonde jokes are so short?" I asked sweetly, "So brunettes can remember them." His face showed defeat, and I grinned evilly. "Don't worry Reidikins," I said, using the old nickname he hated, "We'll work on it."

_Author's note: short chapter, but fun to write, sorry :)_


	22. Chapter 22

_Author's note: After episode 4x04 Paradise_

"So how's Baby today?" I asked JJ over the phone.

"Same as usual, kicking away," she said proudly. I smiled, I was so happy for her.

Spencer walked past and called into the phone, "Remember, no more than an hour of music a day for the baby!"

JJ laughed, "Tell him I know," she said, and I relayed the message to him.

"Amniotic fluid has a tendency to amplify sounds," Spencer told me after JJ and I hung up.

"I know Spencer, that's the third time you've explained it to me that in under three weeks," I reminded him.

"Ready to leave?" he asked.

We were finally going to redecorate the living room. Morgan and Hotch had come over the day before to help us get rid of our old couch and TV stand, so now there was only a coffee table, the TV and some bookshelves in the room.

"How about this one?" Spencer asked, pointing at a plaid sofa.

I grimaced, "No that looks like one of your jackets."

"What's wrong with my jacket?" He asked, surprised.

I giggled, "Here, what about this one?" I said, sitting down on a brown leather couch. Spencer took a seat to my left. I leaned my head against the back of the sofa, "Yeah, I like this," I told him.

He bounced on the cushion lightly, "Alright, this is a good couch," he agreed. "You know the word couch is derived from the old French word couche, which literally means bed, and originally referred to any item of furniture for lying or sleeping on," he rambled, "Whereas the word sofa, which is commonly used in the United Kingdom, is derived from the Arabic word suffah, which roughly translates to 'upholstered raised platform'." I looked at him blankly. His eyes narrowed, "See, this is what it's like for me when you try to tell me jokes," he stated. I smacked him in the arm and got up from the couch, looking around the rest of the store.

"Ok then genius, now we need chairs and a television stand," I said, "actually, I think we should go for a whole media center." Spencer nodded, rubbing him arm. "Oh, don't be such a baby," I laughed. He made a face, and followed me to the lounge chair section.

"How many chairs do you think we can fit in the living room?" I asked, trying to picture a furniture arrangement that would accommodate the entire team. "And don't you dare tell me what the word chair is derived from," I commanded.

He frowned and thought for a moment, "Probably two," he concluded.

I sighed, "So if everyone comes over, we can seat three on the couch, two in chairs, and everyone else could sit at the kitchen table," I said.

"What if they want to watch television?" he asked, looking at the various chairs.

I sighed, "They're FBI agents, I'm sure they could handle sitting on the floor," I insisted. He nodded and we continued wandering through the chairs.

After about twenty minutes I announced, "I want cushy chairs." Spencer gave me a questioning look. "Reading chairs that are soft and comfy," I elaborated. "This one would be perfect for you!" I exclaimed, rushing over to a wide, deep chair with tall arms.

"Why this?" he asked, looking at it suspiciously.

"Because when you read, like actually read, not process, you sit with your legs crossed," I explained.

Spencer looked at me surprised, "I do?" I asked. I nodded, demonstrating on the chair.

"This would be perfect," I concluded, getting back up. "You try," I insisted, pushing him into the chair. He folded up his legs and sat there for a minute.

Finally he looked up and smiled brightly, patting the arms of the tan chair, "I like this one," he decided.

I ended up choosing a small gray recliner, since when I read I pull my knees up to prop the book against. We also picked out a medium-sized wooden media center for the flat screen. We scheduled the furniture delivery for the following day.

The downside to being left with no living room furniture and a television sitting on the floor on a Saturday night is fairly obvious, new Doctor Who episodes. Spencer and I watched the show religiously, so as soon as we returned home we had to reconnect the TV. That evening we watched the new episode lying on our stomachs on the living room floor.

The following day our new furniture was brought up to the apartment. Spencer and I maneuvered the box containing the parts for the media center into the living room and moved the in chairs. We decided to leave the couch in the hall until the media center was put together. I offered to help him assemble it, but Spencer assured me he could put it together easily by himself. I relaxed in my new recliner with a book, and settled in to watch Spencer put the console together.

"How's it going there, Doctor?" I asked him, very amused an hour later. I glanced up from my novel to see that he hadn't made much progress, and was looking downright frustrated.

"Sara I have a doctorate in engineering, I can put together a simple TV stand," he insisted, studying the various wooden slabs.

"Sure you can," I nodded, grinning widely behind my book.

A half hour later I got up to go into the kitchen for a snack, snickering at my brother's frustration. He was biting his lip, sitting cross-legged on the floor and staring at the assembly instructions. Finally, he huffed and stood up, grabbing the phone. I watched from the fridge as he waited for an answer. "Hotch, could you do me a favor?" he asked, sounding annoyed.

I was doubled over in the kitchen, laughing hysterically. Spencer glared at me from the other room. "I _have a doctorate in engineering; I can put together a TV stand_!" I gasped breathless, unable to stop laughing.


	23. Chapter 23

_Author's note: before episode 4x05, Catching Out._

_"But I don't want to go!" the fair-haired little girl whined, stamping her foot. _

_Her mother, a woman in her mid thirties with the same hair as the little girl, knelt in front of her, "You're a big girl," she told her daughter reassuringly. "All you've been talking about this summer is starting elementary school," she reminded her._

_ The little girl pouted, crossing her arms, "but I don't want to!" she insisted._

_ A balding man with brown eyes entered the room, adjusting his tie, "ready to go sweetie?" he asked the little girl. _

_The woman put her hands on her daughter's shoulders, "you need to go to school, you don't want to waste your brain! You've got... Daddy's smarts, and Mommy's brains and her common sense," she told her._

_"Daddy can't I go to work with you?" the girl asked her father, breaking free from her mother's grasp and grabbing his hand, looking up at him hopefully._

_ The mother gave the father a slightly irritated look and turned man laughed, stooping down to his daughter's height, "one day honey, I promise, but you have to go to school first," he told her. _

_"But school is for boys," the girl tried, now angry with her father as well. _

_A sad smile crept over the man's face, "yes, for little boys __and__ little girls," he told her. He took his daughter by the hand, tugging her towards the door. "Come on, or Daddy's going to be late," he told her._

_ "If I go, you promise I can come to work with you?" She asked him._

_ Her father smiled at her. "I promise you can come to work with me someday. And I also promise that you do not want to miss your first day of school." The girl's mother waved goodbye to her daughter as she and her father left through the front door of their home._

My alarm went off; I sat up straight in bed, remembering my dream. I shut off the alarm and lay back in bed, thinking about it. It was a memory of my first day of Elementary school, two months before my Dad had left. I covered my face with a pillow, determined to forget that life. I didn't want to remember either of them, my mother or my father. I didn't want to remember any of it, but I knew I could never forget.

There was a knock at my door, I didn't answer. I just lay there, my head under the pillow. The pillow was suddenly lifted off me, and my brother's face appeared overhead, "you know you can asphyxiate that way," he scolded.

"Yep," I answered, turning over on my stomach.

Spencer poked me in the back. "Sara, you need to get up, you've got school," he reminded me.

I groaned into my mattress, "Do I have to?" I asked.

"You'll never get a PhD if you don't," Spencer said, poking me again. I waved him away, but he didn't let up, "Get up Sara! It's time for your first day of school!" he sang, either trying to encourage me, or irritate me enough that I'd have to get up and leave the room. I stayed where I was, but Spencer wasn't discouraged. "Sara!" he said again, his hands were pressed against the mattress, just to the right of me. "Sara, you have to get up," he insisted. I groaned again.

Spencer started shaking the mattress, (a feat I didn't think him capable of) jostling me around, "Alright, alright!" I cried, rolling off the other side. Spencer smiled triumphantly. I gave him an irritated look and marched to my closet, looking for something to wear. Spencer cleared his throat behind me. I turned around and raised an eyebrow, "What?" I demanded, already irritated by his smirking. He pointed to the dresser; sitting on top was my school uniform. I sighed and walked over to it, "it's too early, I forgot!" I told him.

Thanks to Garcia I had been able to take a late enrollment test for a private high school in Quantico. I'd passed with 'flying colors' as she put it, and had gotten a large scholarship. Spencer was watching me with a confused look. He leaned against my dresser as I attempted to comb the tangles out of my hair. "I don't understand why you're so tired, this is the same time you've been getting up every time you come to work with me," he said.

I narrowed my eyes and looked at him. "But I'm going to school today," I said, "it's different. You remember what it was like getting up for school when you were my age."

"No, when I was your age I was in college," he reminded me, "I had all afternoon classes." He smirked. "Reid, could you get out of here for a minute? I need to change," I told him. He nodded and shut the door behind him.

I put on the uniform, a white collared button down with a gray sweater, a dark pleated skirt that went to my knee, and stockings. The uniform gave me a choice of any black shoe or sneaker I wanted, so I pulled on my black Converse. I walked across the hall to the bathroom, fixed up my hair and makeup a bit, and went to the kitchen.

I sat down at the kitchen table, Spencer handed me a bowl of cereal and a small cup of coffee. He sat down across from me and watched me intently. "What's wrong?" he asked suddenly.

"Why do you ask?" I said, taking a sip of my coffee.

"You were incredibly resistant to getting up, you didn't remember that your uniform was already on the dresser... and you called me Reid," he stated, still staring.

I looked up at him, and pushed away my bowl of cereal. "Nothing's wrong," I assured him.

He pushed the bowl back towards me, "And now you're not eating," he added. I sighed, and ate a spoonful of cereal. "Nervous?" he asked. His face softened a bit, and he looked genuinely interested.

"A little," I confessed.

"It's scary going to a new school," he agreed, leaning back in his chair.

I nodded, "but it's not just that," I said. He bit his lip and leaned forward again, giving me a questioning look.

"I… had this dream last night, about Mom and Dad," I started. Spencer's face went blank, listening intently. "I was six, and Mom and Dad were trying to convince me why I needed to go to school."

Spencer nodded. "You're just nervous," he said. I ate another spoonful. We both sat there in silence for a few minutes, Spencer fiddling with a napkin.

"There's nothing you need to worry about," Spencer said finally.

"How would you know?" I asked, more harshly than I'd intended.

"I don't, really," he admitted. "High school was rough for me, being twelve and all. But you're going to a nice school, the people there are your age, and you're probably smarter than most of them," he pointed out. I knew the last part was to make me smile, and it worked. "You're going to have a good high school experience, I know it," Spencer insisted. I finished my cereal, pushing my empty bowl away.

"How?" I asked again, gently this time.

"Because… I know everything."

I got up and walked around the table, pulling Spencer up from his chair. "Thanks," I said, giving him a hug. He ruffled my hair and I swatted his hand away. "Hey!" I protested. Spencer grinned as I put my hair back into place.

"Ready?" he asked, picking up his messenger bag and my backpack.

I smiled, "As I'll ever be."


	24. Chapter 24

Spencer and the team had been gone for two days when the sniffling started. Still, I went to school like a good little Reid, not wanting to miss any work. By Tuesday however, the sniffling had turned into coughing and sneezing. I was congested and couldn't breathe, so I shut off the alarm and slept until noon.

I was fast asleep when a hesitant knock came at my door. "Sara?" Spencer asked, poking his head into the room. I sat up, instantly feeling light-headed. "You look awful," he said, stepping inside.

"Thanks," I said, sniffling. Spencer bit his lip and walked over to me.

"Are you sick?" he asked. I could think of several sarcastic remarks, but bit them back and nodded.

"You need to call school, I didn't go today," I told him. He nodded went to the kitchen.

I ambled into the living room, collapsing on the couch. Spencer hung up the phone and looked over at me worriedly. "Do you want to go see a doctor?" he asked.

"I'm seeing one now," I joked, coughing. Spencer smiled and raised an eyebrow, sitting down in his chair across from me. "No," I assured him between sniffs, "It's just a cold that's been going around school."

Spencer scratched his chin, unsure of what to do. "Should I call Garcia?" he asked.

"No, no, I don't want to be a bother to anyone," I insisted. He looked at me blankly for a few minutes while I coughed.

"Do you, uh, want anything to eat or something?" he asked pityingly.

"No thanks Spencer; could you just come watch TV with me?" I asked, sliding over and patting the cushion next to me. Spencer looked very taken aback, and I laughed at how confused he seemed by my request.

He stood up quickly, "yeah, uh sure hang on," he blurted. "I'm just going to call Hotch to take tomorrow off," Spencer said, going back to the phone. I nodded, coughing hard. When he returned he handed me a cup of orange juice and sat down next to me carefully. "Hotch gave me the rest of the week off," Spencer told me, "he says to feel better," he added.

I smiled and nodded, "That's nice of him."

Spencer grabbed the remote and clicked the TV on, propping his feet up on the coffee table. "New socks?" I asked as he flipped through the channels. His left sock was neon green with white stripes, the other was plain purple. He nodded, propping his arms up against the back of the couch. "Alright, we have a choice of Myth Busters, Origin of the Universe: The Big Bang, and The Princess Diaries," he frowned at the last option.

"Princess Diaries, please," I asked sweetly. He sighed and let his head fall back.

"Fine," he agreed begrudgingly, recalling the channel. "And I have to watch?"

"Yes," I confirmed.

"And you do realize that this movie will be imprinted on my memory for the rest of my life?"

"Yes, movie please."

Spencer enjoyed pointing out that the country of Genovia did not exist, that the diplomats of a foreign nation would most likely not take part in dancing 'the robot' at a ball, and wondering how they made Anne Hathaway's eyebrows so look bushy.

To my brother's 'delight', the sequel to The Princess Diaries came on directly after the first one finished. I started shivering halfway through the movie. "Cold?" Spencer asked.

"Yeah a little," I sniffed. He pulled a red knit blanket off the back of the couch and wrapped me up in it. "Thanks," I whispered, smothering a yawn. "Spence, what time is it?" I asked, my eyelids drooping slightly.

Spencer covered a yawn as well, "about 5."

"Shhh, shhh, you'll wake them!"

"I know, but my memory card's almost full!" I rubbed my eyes tiredly, wondering briefly where my glasses had ended up.

"See, you woke her up Garcia!" I heard Prentiss scold. I was fairly interested to know just how many of Spencer's co workers had a key to our apartment.

"Emily, Penelope?" I asked.

"Oh, my poor baby!" Garcia whispered, holding a camera. Prentiss gave me a pitying smile. I coughed and sat up.

"What are you two doing here?" I asked, looking back and forth between the two.

The two women smirked at me, "Hotch told us you were sick, we came to check on you, but from the looks of things, Reid's taking good care of you," Emily explained. I suddenly became aware of how I'd been sleeping. Spencer was still asleep next to me, his head was leaned against the back of the couch and my head had been resting on his lap.

My brother stirred next to me and the two women started to giggle, flipping through the pictures on Garcia's camera. "It's 8 pm, why are you here?" Spencer asked his colleagues, a little grogginess in his voice.

I sneezed and answered, "It appears they're black mailing us."

"With adorable photos," Emily added. "Be sure to email me these," she said to Penelope who nodded eagerly.

"Can I see?" I asked, reaching for the camera. Garcia gave me a stern look which clearly said 'don't delete them' as she and Prentiss walked into the kitchen.

I scrolled through the 27 pictures and two videos that Garcia and Prentiss had taken over the past hour. The pictures all showed a similar scene, a tall skinny man with long brown hair lounging on his couch fast asleep, head back against the sofa and one arm propped up, feet supported by the coffee table. Curled up next to him was a blonde teenage girl under a red blanket, her head on the man's lap, his other arm draped across her shoulders. The video was exactly the same, except there was a brief clip where the man was running his fingers through the younger girl's hair and both people were snoring lightly.

Penelope and Emily returned a moment later. Emily was carrying two bowls and Penelope snatched the camera back from me. "Penelope, please don't show these to anyone," Spencer pleaded, taking a bowl from Prentiss.

"Not a chance my Junior G-Man," Penelope laughed, "I am printing and framing these, there will be one on every desk in the FBI." I took a bowl from Emily as well, they had made us soup.

Penelope stored the camera safely in her bag and they both left, cooing about Spencer's 'maternal side' as they shut the door behind them.

Garcia kept her promise. The following week when I stopped in at the BAU I found a framed photo of me and Spencer on Morgan's desk. There was a small version of the same picture taped to Rossi's filing cabinet, and another framed picture of Emily's desk. I had brushed past Hotch on the way into his office, finding the same picture among his personal photos of his son Jack, and yet another in JJ's office. There was a large printout in Garcia's lair and two copies sitting on Spencer's desk. One of them found a home taped to the corner of Spencer's desk divider, and the other came home with me and was attached to the refrigerator with a magnet. My poor brother didn't stop hearing about 'his maternal side' for a month.


	25. Chapter 25

_Author's note: episode 4x05 _

"So wait, she knew your name?" I asked Derek, he had just been telling us about a woman he'd encountered at the nearby coffee shop.

"I don't know how I could forget a face like hers," Morgan said.

"You've been with so many girls you can't remember all their names?" Spencer asked in mock disbelief, stirring his coffee. I gasped and covered my mouth.

Morgan glared at Reid as team headed towards the bullpen. Ordinarily I'd go to Penelope's lair, but this was far too interesting, so I followed them. "C'mon are you surprised?" Prentiss asked, carrying a stack of files.

"This has never happened to me before," Morgan insisted.

"It hasn't happened to me before either," Spencer said, entering the BAU's meeting room.

"It can't happen to you, you've got an eidetic memory," I pointed out, Emily nodded in agreement.

"And besides, you've only got one name to remember," Derek added. The profilers and I laughed briefly as Rossi and Hotch entered through another door.

"Six victims have been killed in a series burglar homicides all over central California," JJ began, a series of grotesque images appearing on the screen behind her. The rest of the team took their seats around a circular polished wood table and began looking through files. I leaned against the wall, watching in fascination. "In order, Bakersville, Fresno, Chico and two nights ago Allan and Brenda Paisley in Sacramento," JJ continued, sitting down as well.

The images of two bloodied bodies filled the screen, and my face paled. "Big area, are we sure it's the same unsub?" Rossi asked, assessing the photographs.

JJ nodded, "His DNA was found in all the homes."

"They hadn't connected it because it crossed jurisdiction lines," Hotch added, looking up at me suddenly. "Sara," he said shortly, giving me a stern look. The rest of the team looked up at me, remembering I was there, as my face went from white to red.

"Sorry," I said, "I'll um, just go then," I said hurriedly, backing out the door. "Sorry," I said again quietly. Hotch nodded and turned back to the file, the team doing the same.

I heard them continue talking as I hurried away from the room, brushing past several FBI agents who barely glanced at me. Most of them seemed used to my presence in the BAU by now. I sat down in Reid's swivel chair, waiting for the meeting to finish. The images of the murdered couple bothered me for some reason, and I drew a little picture on a sticky note, trying to get the image out of my mind.

A short time later the team reentered the desk area, each of them grabbing their 'go-bag' from under their respective desks. Spencer rushed over for his bag; they would be leaving very soon. I pushed the chair out of the way so Spencer could reach the bag under the desk. "Hotch wasn't mad at me, was he?" I asked Reid hesitantly.

He looked up quickly and responded, "No, he just doesn't want you in there, in the meeting. He didn't want you to see that stuff." I nodded, somewhat relieved.

"So you're going to California?" I asked as Spencer checked through his bag, stalling so I could talk to him.

"Yeah, I might be gone more than a few days if you want to stay with Garcia," he said, glancing at the rest of the team. They were already headed out the door.

"Ok. Um, find the guy, don't do anything stupid I guess, and hurry back," I told him awkwardly. He nodded and followed after the other profilers. "Bye," I whispered, and watched his exit through the doors of the BAU.

I sent a text to Garcia as I left the building, I decided to go home and read or watch TV. Depending on how long the team would be gone I might go stay with her. I boarded my bus and sat in one of the front seats, staring out the window as the building and trees flew past.

The team was only gone a few days, and when Spencer called in the evenings I didn't ask about the case for once, so there wasn't much to talk about other than my English essay. He did tell me, however, about Morgan fighting with the unsub on a moving train. I'd given him an earful about it when the team got back to Quantico.

Emily, Spencer, Morgan and I were leaving the BAU after my lecture about 'no-more-fighting-dangerous-unsubs-on-trains-because-it-qualifies-as-something-stupid' when Spencer asked, "So do you guys have plans tonight?" Probably sick of listening to me try to convince Morgan not to take such irritatingly dangerous risks.

"I was thinking about getting a burger," Morgan said.

"Oh I could eat," Emily agreed.

"I could go for fries," I added. JJ was walking down the hall towards us with a woman I hadn't seen before.

"Hey guys, I wanted to introduce you to someone," she said, gesturing to her companion, "This is agent Jordan Todd; she'll be taking over for me when I'm on maternity leave." The woman smiled, and a look of realization crept across Morgan's face.

"Agent Jareau has told me so much about you all," she said, looking at each of us. "You must be Agent Prentiss," Todd said, shaking Emily's hand warmly.

"Yes, nice to meet you," she replied.

"Hello Doctor Reid," shaking Spencer's hand. Spencer looked pleasantly surprised, "Hi!"

"And his sister, Sara Reid," she said, turning to me. I grinned and shook her hand, surprised that JJ had told her about me as well.

"And Agent Morgan," she said, a tone of humor in her voice, "Nice to see you again."

"Nice to see you too, so this must be the, uh, good news," Morgan greeted, shaking her hand.

"This would be my brownie," she confirmed.

"You two have met?" Prentiss asked, though not seeming surprised. Spencer and I looked on amused.

"Briefly," Morgan said, nodding. Everyone exchanged curious glances.

"Agent Todd comes to us from seven years at counter terrorism," JJ added. Spencer was still looking at Morgan and Todd with raised eyebrows, my mouth was quirked up in a half smirk.

"I'm really looking forward to working with the Behavioral Analysis Unit," she agreed.

"We're starting her training now," JJ explained.

"You're starting her training right now?" Spencer asked confused.

"Well, we're kind of running out of time," JJ laughed, placing her hands over her protruding stomach.

"Or did you forget?" I asked him, jabbing him lightly in the ribs.

"Let me introduce you to the rest of the team," JJ said to Todd, gesturing towards the glass doors.

"I look forward to working with you all in the field… team," she said to the agents, following JJ.

Morgan headed to the elevators. "So is there anything you wanna tell us?" Prentiss asked mockingly.

"Perhaps about the long-lost coffee shop mystery woman?" I added.

"Nope," he answered, punching the elevator down button.

"Your forehead's sweating," I pointed out.

"And he's avoiding eye contact," Emily added.

"His blink rate just sped up!" Spencer eagerly observed.

"Are you sure there's nothing you want to tell us?" I asked again, prodding him in the back.

"You know guys, I don't think I want that burger anymore," he said dismissively, stepping into the elevator. Spencer's jaw slackened in protest.

"But Morgan!" I fake whined.

"You can't run from us," Prentiss assured him.

"Watch me," he stated, waving goodbye tauntingly as the elevator door sealed in front of him.


	26. Chapter 26

_Author's note: I couldn't find a confirmed mention of Spencer's birthdate, but a lot of websites told me the 12th, so that's what I picked._

I was in the kitchen on Friday, October 12th at three in the morning. It was Spencer's birthday today, and I had the day off school, fortunately there was a teacher's workshop. I was baking a cake for Spencer, three layers of yellow cake and chocolate frosting. It was what Penelope had made me for my birthday and I knew he'd liked it since he'd eaten three pieces then.

I'd been up all last night on my iPod, checking recipes, and I'd been smuggling sugar, flour and cans of frosting into the apartment for a week. I woke up at 2:30, washed my face in the bathroom sink and padded through the hall in my socks to the kitchen. I had to mix everything by hand and time the oven with the wall clock to ensure there would be no sounds or timers to wake Spencer up.

The cake was out of the oven and cooling at 4 am, so I sat in my gray recliner in the living room to wait until I could finish the cake. One hour and three chapters of 'The Sign of Four' later, the cake was cooled, stacked and frosted. I even decorated it with green frosting like Garcia had done with my birthday cake.

Finally I started my last project. I'd always been fascinated by how easily Spencer's mind processes images and information, so I took out a little book I'd bought at the store and a highlighter, and started highlighting letters. Spencer's alarm usually went off at 7:30, so at 7 I got him a cup of coffee with extra, extra sugar, to compensate for his impending displeasure of being woken up, and went down the hall to his room.

I peeked in through the door, careful not to let it creak when it opened. I tiptoed across the room, coffee mug in hand and knelt next to the bed. I carefully placed the coffee cup on the bedside table atop a pile of Russian novels he'd been working on, and started tugging the blankets off the bed.

A moment later the sleeping figure of Spencer Reid, age 28, appeared. Hair ruffled, horn rimmed glasses still on, and an open book at his side, he didn't look much different than usual, surprisingly. I almost felt bad to wake him up, but not too bad.

"HAPPY BIRTHDAY SPENCIE-PIE!" I screamed at the top of my lungs, pounding the mattress with my fists. His eyes flew open and he scrambled for something to hold onto. He shot me a terrified look. "Good morning," I said sweetly, handing him his cup of coffee. He pursed his lips, glaring at me. I grinned back, "Budge up," I commanded, Spencer moved over slightly. I plopped down next to him and ruffled his already messy hair.

"What was that?" he demanded, still glaring at me.

"Just your usual morning wakeup, old man," I joked, taking the already empty mug from him and replacing it on the table.

"Thanks," he said tiredly, trying to smooth his hair. I gave him a one-armed hug around his shoulders and returned to the kitchen, carrying the coffee mug with me.

Just 15 minutes later he was dressed in his usual, a dark button down, burgundy tie and gray dress pants. He didn't have shoes on, so I took a moment to notice his pink and blue-anchor sock pairing. "Where'd the cake come from?" he asked suddenly, speeding towards it. I stepped in front, blocking his path.

"No, no," I scolded as he continued looking at the cake, easily done considering he's about four inches taller than me.

He gave me a puppy dog look, "but it's my birthday!" he pleaded.

"Very good Spencer, but this is for you and all your little friends _at work_," I said in a voice resembling that of a mother talking to a five-year old. He stuck his tongue out at me and went to get more coffee.

A few minutes later he asked me, "So where's the cake from?"

"I made it," I told him, "At about 4 this morning."

His eyebrows shot up, "what, why did you do that?" he asked, seeming genuinely surprised by my answer.

I shrugged, "wanted to surprise you. I practically had to wrestle Penelope before she'd agree to give me cake baking rights for this year," I explained.

He nodded and smiled, "That does sound like her."

Remembering my project from earlier, I crossed the room and tossed the book to Reid, who glanced at the cover. "No Way Ballet," he said confusedly, reading the title. "Thanks?"

I laughed, "Look inside," I insisted. He opened it to find many of the letters in the story highlighted. "Can you read it?" I asked curiously.

After a moment, he read, "It was many and many a year ago, in a kingdom by the sea… this is Annabel Lee by Edgar Allan Poe, he stated, recognizing the first lines of the poem immediately.

I nodded, "you mentioned awhile ago that you and your Mom used to read poetry together, so I found this one," I explained. "Speaking of which, are you expecting to hear from her, your Mom today?" Spencer shrugged, avoiding eye contact with me.

He flipped through the rest, "you like this poem? I could help you memorize it," he suggested, smiling.

I glanced at the floor, "Thanks, but I already know it."

"Really? When did you learn it?"

"Yesterday." I was suddenly embarrassed, my face turning pink. Spencer looked very interested now.

"Would you tell it to me?" he requested.

I took a breath and began,

"It was many and many a year ago,  
In a kingdom by the sea,  
That a maiden there lived whom you may know  
By the name of Annabel Lee;  
And this maiden, she lived with no other thought  
Than to love and be loved by me,"

I paused, looking up at Spencer, who nodded.

"I was a child and she was a child,  
In this kingdom by the sea;  
But we loved with a love that was more than love-  
I and my Annabel Lee;  
With a love that the winged seraphs of heaven  
Coveted her and me.

And this was the reason that, long ago,  
In this kingdom by the sea,  
A wind blew out of a cloud, chilling  
My beautiful Annabel Lee;  
So that her highborn kinsman came  
And bore her away from me,  
To shut her up in a sepulcher  
In this kingdom by the sea."

I paused again, but Spencer motioned for me to continue,

"The angels, not half so happy in heaven,  
Went envying her and me-  
Yes!- that was the reason as all men know,  
In this kingdom by the sea  
That the wind came out of the cloud by night,  
Chilling and killing my Annabel Lee.

But our love it was stronger by far than the love  
Of those who were older than we-  
Of many far wiser than we-  
And neither the angels in heaven above,  
Nor the demons down under the sea,  
Can ever dissever my soul from the soul  
Of the beautiful Annabel Lee.

For the moon never beams without bringing me dreams  
Of the beautiful Annabel Lee;  
And the stars never rise but I feel the bright eyes  
Of the beautiful Annabel Lee;  
And so, all the night-tide, I lie down by the side  
Of my darling- my darling- my life and my bride,  
In the sepulcher there by the sea,  
In her tomb by the sounding sea."

When I finished I looked up at Spencer nervously. "You learned that in one day?" he asked astonished.

I nodded, "Last night, and this morning when I was highlighting," I confirmed.

"That's really great Sara; can you learn everything this fast?" I shook my head, "No, just some things."

Spencer nodded and we glanced at the clock, "We'd better go." I told him, carefully picking up the cake. Spencer opened the door for me and we drove to the FBI for Spencer's birthday celebration.


	27. Chapter 27

Walking through FBI security carrying a three layer cake was definitely an interesting experience. Not because they thought I or my cake was a threat, but because no less than three security guards who had never spoken more than two words to me before, even though I saw them several times a week, suddenly started up pleasant conversations with me. I promised to send them each a piece later as I backed into the elevator with Spencer.

"Well that was incredibly uncomfortable," I said to Spencer after the elevator doors were closed. He nodded, staring straight ahead. The elevator came to a halt and opened outside the BAU. He opened the door for me to carry the cake through, and he was instantly swarmed by Emily, Derek, Penelope, Rossi and Hotch. I set the cake tray on Spencer's desk among a pile of brightly wrapped presents. I checked to see that mine was there; I'd kept the box in Penelope's office all week.

I sat down in his swivel chair and watched the agents congratulate my brother. I almost envied him sometimes; he'd had this wonderful family for so much longer than I had and cared for him so much. I shook that thought from my head though, thinking about how much they cared for me as well as Spencer, not just as an extension of my brother.

The agents pulled Spencer over to his desk, and I gave up my chair so he could sit and open his gifts.

Spencer had an irritatingly meticulous gift unwrapping process that took ages, unlike me, after the first two gifts I had just torn into my presents on my birthday. Spencer seemed to savor it more, much to Derek's displeasure.

"Come on Kid! Before you're 38, please!" Morgan demanded as Spencer slowly unwrapped his gift. Spencer rolled his eyes and tore off the rest of the paper.

"Wow, Morgan, thanks…" Spencer laughed when he'd opened his present.

Morgan had given him a bottle of 'Shower Shock Caffeinated Body Wash,' "In case Glasses drinks all the coffee." Emily had given him a book entitled, 'Chess for Beginners,' which earned a glare from Spencer and a laugh from everyone who had ever watched the pair play.

Penelope had gifted a huge tray of cookies, since I had stolen her rights to cake making this year, as well as a mini-bat-light for The Boy Wonder. Rossi had gifted the Reid's with yet another cookbook, only Spencer's was about 1,000 pages long and gave highly detailed instructions on how to prepare each dish, he'd even written tips in the side margins. Hotch gave Spencer a huge box of very decorated and custom socks, "to mismatch how you choose," as well as a book called, 'Parenting: Teenage Girl Edition.'

I groaned when I saw that, "Hotch, you've doomed me!" I cried, burying my head in my hands. "Why'd you pick today to have a sense of humor?" Hotch laughed immediately, as well as Spencer and the rest of the team. JJ rushed over carrying a gift bag and a wrapped box a moment later, quickly followed by Agent Todd.

"Happy Birthday Spence!" she said, setting the box and bag down to hug him. He'd awkwardly returned it, despite her large belly which he made an obvious effort not to bump into.

Todd walked over and shook his hand, "Happy birthday Reid," she told him before walking back to JJ's office alone.

"She could have stayed," I said to Hotch. JJ shrugged and pulled a ridiculous dinosaur shaped hat out of the gift bag, shoving it onto his head. Spencer glanced up at it skeptically and turned to his gift. She'd given him a new sweater and a new deck of cards.

Finally Spencer reached for my gift, he unwrapped it quickly and opened it to find a collage of pictures, newspaper clippings and hand written sentiments I'd put together and framed. He stood up and hugged each of us, thanking us each individually. When he got to me I hugged him around the neck, and whispered, "I'm glad I'm here."

He whispered back, "Me too."

Penelope clapped her hands together and announced, "Time for cake, Junior G-Man."

As 28 candles were added to the cake, Rossi asked, "Where'd you get this Sara?"

"She made it this morning," Spencer answered for me. Rossi gave me the same surprised look as Spencer had this morning.

"You made this?" I nodded. He nodded approvingly, "Very nice Princess, you can cook and bake."

JJ turned around, arching an eyebrow. "Princess?" she asked. Rossi shrugged, and the other agents smirked.

"You pegged her with princess?" Morgan asked skeptically. Even Hotch looked doubtful.

I jumped to Rossi's rescue, "Considering my other nicknames are Glasses and Pixie, I don't see what the big deal is," I stated. "Besides, my name actually means Princess, its Hebrew," I explained.

Spencer nodded and asked, "Do you have an interest in name meanings as well?"

"Yeah, I do actually," I confirmed.

"Do you know many?" Emily asked.

I nodded, "Emily, to strive or excel or rival." I looked at each agent in turn, "Aaron, strong or exalted. Spencer, steward or butler. Jennifer, fair phantom or white wave. Derek, people ruler. David, beloved. Penelope, with a web over her face." They all looked reasonably impressed and smiled.

JJ lit the candles on the birthday cake, and the team and I stated a chorus of 'Happy Birthday.' Spencer was bright-eyed and grinning the entire time and I felt so happy for him. Spencer blew out the candles and we cheered as he cut into the cake and started passing it out. I asked if someone could save three pieces for the guards downstairs as everyone began eating. "This is good, girly, but mine'll be better next year," Penelope threatened, waving her fork at me.

I laughed and walked over to Spencer who was happily eating his birthday cake. I perched next to him on the desk by his chair. "I hope you have a good year Spencer," I whispered, patting the dinosaur hat he was still wearing.

He smiled and looked up at me, "Yeah, me too."


	28. Chapter 28

_Author's note: Takes place at the end of 4x06 _

About a week before the start of Thanksgiving vacation the BAU team went to Las Vegas to investigate the murder of one boy and the recent abduction of another. The case was in Las Vegas, Spencer's home town and I thought he was looking forward to visiting his Mom while he was there.

The team had been gone a few days already and I was at home after school, still wearing my uniform. I'd already finished my homework for the day so I was watching 'The Universe' on History channel when the phone rang. I groaned and rolled off the couch, crawling along the floor to grab the phone. "Hello?"

"Hey Little Reid," Derek greeted.

"Something wrong?" I asked, already picking up on some strain in his voice.

I heard him sigh at the other end of the line, "We got the kid back to his parents," Derek started.

"That's great, so you're coming back?"

"Not all of us are."

I sighed, "What's up?"

"I think Reid wants to stay for a few extra days, he seems really weird lately so I was wondering if you wanted to come out here and bring him back to his senses…"

20 minutes later I was packing dress clothes, tank tops and shorts into a small suitcase. I kept going over what Derek had just told me on the phone and was feeling nervous, but excited. I rolled up another shirt and tossed it in the bag, looking over everything in my closet.

Morgan told me that Spencer had been having nightmares throughout the case. He'd woken up screaming at the victim's house the other day, dreaming that he'd been covered in leeches. I tried to get that image out of my mind and focus on packing. Spencer had become fixated on Riley Jenkins, a boy who was murdered in Spencer's neighborhood when he was four.

Morgan and Rossi had arranged for me to fly out to Nevada with another group of agents. The plane was leaving in an hour, so I had to hurry. I couldn't help but feel excited. I was concerned about Spencer, but the idea of flying across the country was exciting just the same. I changed into a button down and jeans, picked up my FBI visitors pass, bag and apartment key and hurried down to the bus stop.

I understand why Penelope loves going on cases with the team- The jet. It's comfortable, clean, and has internet access, which I didn't realize was possible on a jet in the first place. There were five agents on the plane that I'd seen at the FBI before, but had never spoken to. Keeping this in mind, I didn't have any way to start a conversation with any of the agents.

After sitting in silence watching the agents flip through file folders and clear their throats for an hour, I went to the back of the jet. I stared out the window, trying to figure out what to say to Spencer. Something was very wrong if he was having nightmares. I just hoped there would be something I could do to help.


	29. Chapter 29

_Author's note: Episode 4x07 Memoriam_

Rossi and Morgan were waiting for me inside the massive hotel lobby. The well dressed woman at the front desk gave me a very strange look when I walked over to them. I glared back at her and she looked away quickly. The two men were sitting in chairs next to some potted ferns and a small slot machine.

"So where's Spencer?" I asked.

Morgan gave me a sad look, "He says he's going to visit his Mom."

"But it's more likely he's going to the police department," Rossi continued, standing up from his chair. Morgan took my bag and we got on the elevator. They let me into Spencer's room to unpack, and the two sat down to watch 'The Young and The Restless.'

"Wait, so why don't Leslie and Lorie both just break off whatever thing they've got going on with Brad and find better guys?" I asked, I couldn't begin to fathom how or why Rossi and Morgan actually liked this show.

"Because they're conflicted, and Brad thinks that he loves both of them," Morgan said as Rossi shushed me. I laughed and stepped back to the dresser to finish unpacking.

"What are you guys doing here?" I heard Spencer ask, he had just gotten back.

"Hey, what does it look like we're doing?" Morgan asked, gesturing towards the TV. I hung back in the other part of the room, wondering whether Morgan was going to tell Spencer I was there.

"Uh, breaking into my room and watching 'Days of Our Lives," Spencer said, setting down a box I recognized as the type that officers keep case files in.

"Young and The Restless," Rossi corrected, shutting off the television.

"Aren't you guys supposed to be on a plane back to DC?" Spencer asked, looking nervous.

"You're supposed to be with your Mom," Derek reminded him.

"And you're not," Rossi finished

Spencer sniffed, scratching his nose. I walked over to where Spencer could see me, and he suddenly looked furious. "What are you doing here?" he demanded, looking at the two agents and me.

"Well I'd like to ask you the same thing," I said, going to stand next to Morgan's chair.

Spencer glared at his colleagues, "I can't believe you'd bring a teenager out here without my permission," Spencer said angrily.

"You didn't even call to say you were staying longer," I told him, crossing my arms.

Spencer shook his head, "You really can't be here right now Sara."

Morgan gestured to the box Spencer had brought in, "Riley Jenkins?" he asked.

"No, that's not… that's actually not why I'm here," Spencer said quickly, putting his hands in his pockets. I leaned against the wall and glared at him.

"Well since you're obviously not trying to work a case, there's no reason I can't be here," I stated.

Spencer sighed, and Morgan stood up, "Reid, who do you think you're talking to?" he asked.

"I know what this has been doing to you," he said, gesturing to the box again.

Rossi stood up, "Let us help. Maybe together we can find out who killed him." Spencer glanced at me again, still angry.

"Spencer," I said, walking over to him as well, "They just want to help, I do too, I know there's something wrong."

"You really can't be here," Spencer insisted.

He turned to Rossi, "Besides, I think I might already know," he started.

"Tell us about the suspect," Morgan pressed. Spencer looked like a lost little kid for a moment, and I was suddenly concerned for him. "Truth is, I don't know anything about him," he said, staring at the floor. Morgan, Rossi and I looked at him expectantly. He glanced at me again and took a breath, "He's my father."

My jaw clenched and I turned around, sitting down heavily in the chair Rossi had occupied a few minutes ago. Derek and Rossi looked at each other nervously as Spencer picked up the box of files. He carried it to the bed and starting laying the folders out one at a time.

"Before we go down this road, you need to be sure," Rossi said, sounding worried. Morgan glanced over at me in my chair.

"He's right, some rocks don't need looking under," he agreed.

"My mind is sending me signals, I can't ignore them anymore," Spencer insisted.

Suddenly I was angry at all of them, at Morgan and Rossi for bringing me here, but mostly at Spencer for insisting on looking into any of this.

"Mixed signals, that's what the subconscious is all about, you know that," Rossi told him.

"You're your Dad left you; you could take it to the Freudian extreme and say that he killed your childhood," Morgan added.

"It could explain the dream in which you see him as a murderer," Rossi continued.

I stood up quickly and walked over to them. "I've come this far, I'm not going back," Spencer said determinedly.

"You've come this far alone," I said, my hands balled into fists.

"This didn't concern you," he said gently, sounding stressed.

Morgan and Rossi stepped into the other room. "Didn't concern me?" I demanded, "in case you didn't notice Reid, he's my dad too," I reminded him. Spencer's mouth twitched nervously. "Whatever you do now, Spencer, it involves me too," I told him, more calmly now. Spencer inhaled deeply and shut his eyes, I could practically see him weighing his options.

Eventually he opened his eyes and nodded, "Alright."


	30. Chapter 30

"Riley was six at the time, his father, Lou Jenkins, was supposed to pick him up at T-ball practice at 4, but he got delayed at work, prompting Riley to walk the three blocks home. When his mother got home in the early evening she found him dead in the basement." Spencer said. Morgan and Rossi were going through the different folders detailing the case. I was seated at the table with the stack they'd already looked through, flipping through them.

"So the offender came to the house after the boy arrived home," Rossi concluded, looking up from a file.

"Or picked him up on the way there," Spencer added.

"Coaxes Riley into the basement where he sexually assaults him," Morgan continued.

I continued rifling through papers, trying to block out what they were saying as much as possible.

"Finds a knife in the fishing gear under the stairs, stabs Riley nine times in the chest, stuffs him behind the washing machine," Rossi concluded, setting down the file.

"So the unsub's a white male in his late twenties to early thirties," Spencer said.

"That means we're looking for a man in his fifties," Rossi added.

"He likely knew the boy, maybe been to the house," said Morgan.

"Neighbor," Rossi finished.

"Spencer, what is it?" I asked. He'd been staring at a grid model of Riley Jenkins's neighborhood intensely for a few minutes.

"My family lived less than half a mile from the Jenkins's," Spencer murmured.

I exchanged a concerned look with Derek. "You think your father knew the boy?" Rossi asked.

"I don't know, my memories…" Spencer rubbed his face tiredly, "Lack of recall, this just reinforces what little I knew about him."

Morgan leaned forward from his perch on the table, "Reid, we're going to have to track him down, you do know that," he reminded him.

"We should talk to my mother first, neighbors, get their impressions first," Spencer evaded.

Rossi stared down at the table, "Reid, I don't need to tell you that this signature was need based and sexual in nature, the man we're looking for is a pedophile," Rossi leaned forward across the table he and Spencer were sitting at, looking him in the eyes, "So I'll ask you again, are you sure you want to go down this road?"

I held my breath, watching Spencer. He glanced at each of us, lingering on me, and nodded. "I'm going to go talk to my mom, ask her about this," he said, standing up.

I stood up as well, brushing off my pant legs, "I'll go with you," I suggested. Spencer headed out the door, which I took as a cue to follow him. Morgan and Rossi glanced at each other worriedly as I hurried after him.

I shut the hotel room door behind me and jogged down the hall after my brother. "Spencer!" I called after him. He was walking quickly ahead of me, hands in his pockets. He didn't turn around. "Spencer," I said again, grabbing him by the arm. He stopped and turned around, staring at a place over my head. "What's wrong with you?" I asked gently, not wanting to upset him.

He opened his mouth as if to speak but shut it again, still not looking at me. I bit my lip, still holding onto his arm. "Alright, Sara, I don't want you to come with me to see my mother."

"Wh… Why?" I asked.

Spencer shut his eyes, blinking hard, "My mother is a paranoid schizophrenic, she lives in a facility I sent her to when I was 18," he explained quickly.

I covered my mouth with my hand, "Oh, Spencer," I whispered. He nodded once and kept walking.

After a moment of thought I followed after him and into the elevator. "Spencer, I know how hard this is for you, I get it, but you don't need to hide this from me. I really wish you wouldn't," I tried to assure him.

Spencer rubbed his forehead, "Did you know that schizophrenia is passed genetically?" he asked angrily. I nodded yes. He sighed and finally looked at me, "You understand what I mean?" he asked skeptically.

I nodded again. "You'll be ok Spencer," I insisted, "I do want to meet her. She must be pretty awesome if she raised you to be what you are."

We stood there in the elevator as we descended through the floors, staring at our reflections in the mirrored walls. "Um, sorry for being angry earlier," he said after a few moments silence. I nodded and glanced up at him.

"It's ok… Do you think we'll have to see him?" I asked, wondering about my father.

The elevator door opened into the lobby of the hotel. We stepped off and the doors closed behind us. I followed Spencer outside. "Probably," he answered.


	31. Chapter 31

The facility Spencer drove us to was friendly looking and nice. Not sterile and harsh like a hospital. We walked into the front lobby, Spencer was holding onto my wrist like he'd done months ago when Mattloff had escaped. He didn't want me to be here, I could tell. Spencer asked for Diana Reid and we were led up to the floor she was on.

The nurse pointed her out to us through an open door and left. Spencer, still holding my wrist, glanced looked down at me. "I'm going to go in and talk to her; I need to see if today is a 'good day'. You stay here until I call you." Spencer instructed. I nodded once, he let go of my arm and walked hesitantly into the room.

I leaned my head around the edge of the door and watched Spencer sit down with a tall, thin blonde woman in a pink sweater. After a few minutes of anxious waiting, the woman looked up expectantly, and Spencer turned around and nodded to me.

I took a nervous breath and walked into the room. She reached over the table and shook my hand as I sat down. "Hello Mrs. Reid," I greeted her shyly.

"Hello Sara, I've heard a lot about you from my son," she said. My face reddened slightly and I smiled. "Please, call me Diana," she added warmly.

I nodded, "Diana was a Greek goddess of the moon and the hunt, right?" I asked.

She nodded, "I'm impressed," she looked at Spencer, "You're doing a good job with her, Spencer."

Spencer smiled slightly, "Mom, can I ask you some questions about Dad?" Diana looked up from the scrabble board she was tinkering with. "I'm having trouble remembering…"

She looked down at her board again, "What do you want to know?"

He hesitated for a moment, "Did he like to be around children?"

"Children?" she asked. Spencer nodded.

"Well yes, if it were up to him you'd have a houseful of brothers and sisters," She answered, "I guess you do now, anyways," she added.

"So, you didn't want more kids?" he asked.

"Why mess with perfection?" She winked, Spencer and I laughed.

"Um, what about other people's children?" he asked, getting closer to the reason we'd come. "How was he around them?"

"He was always good with kids I guess, he coached your little league team." Spencer glanced at the table, remembering. I couldn't remember Dad being around any kids when I was that age. The few friends I'd had were girls that lived nearby. "He was always trying to put you into normal activities. I tried to tell him you weren't normal, you were exceptional," she continued, smiling at her son. I couldn't help but be a little jealous of Spencer, in the eyes of his mother he could do no wrong.

"Let me ask you this Mom, did you ever get the feeling on his part that the marriage was just for show?"

Diana looked at him skeptically, "These questions are very strange Spencer. What is this about?"

"It's about Riley Jenkins." Spencer explained that Riley Jenkins had been a real boy who had lived in their neighborhood. He had been on his little league team and we thought that Dad had something to do with his murder.

She kept shaking her head saying, "He was real?" Eventually Spencer let the matter go, realizing we wouldn't get any farther today. We said goodbye and left the building.

Spencer put his head against the steering wheel, staring at the floor of the car, still sitting in the parking lot. "She's lovely, Spencer," I told him, trying to get him to relax.

He sat up and looked at me, "Thanks," he said, "You know she used to be a professor?" he asked as he started the car.

Awhile later Spencer and I pulled into the lot where Lou Jenkins worked. Morgan parked next to us and got out of the car. "How'd it go?" he asked, I shook my head; we hadn't gotten very far with Diana.

Spencer and Morgan approached Riley's father, I followed close behind. Lou Jenkins was in  
his fifties, unshaven, and not in a good mood.

"We're trying to get some new facts," Morgan tried to explain.

"Well you're far from facts if you think Will Reid killed my son," Jenkins argued.

"So you were friends?" Spencer asked.

"Who are you to come here asking this?" Jenkins demanded, walking towards the cab of his truck.

"His son," Spencer answered.

"And his daughter," I said.

Jenkins stopped in his tracks, "Spencer?" he asked surprised, walking back towards us. "Spencer, a G-Man, how about that?" he said impressed. He looked down at me, "I think I remember you," he said.

"How?"

He paused for a moment to think. "Will came around here, about 10 years ago with a little girl, was it you?"

"Yeah, that was me." Dad must have visited Lou Jenkins when he brought me to Nevada when I was little.

"I don't understand," Jenkins said.

"Was William around your house often?" Morgan asked.

"The occasional barbeque, that sort of thing" he answered, much more willing to talk now.

"Was Riley around on these occasions?" Spencer asked.

"Why are you doing this?" Jenkins asked sadly, looking Spencer in the eyes.

Spencer grimaced, "I need to know."

"Take it from someone who does know, he was a good man," he tried to assure us both.

"Thanks for your time," Morgan told him, he turned to the cars and patted Reid on the arm for him to follow.

Spencer hesitated, "Where is he these days, my Dad?" he asked Lou. I grabbed his wrist, urging him to follow Morgan.

"It's been years, but he probably still works at that same firm, in Summerlin."

"He's been in town this whole time?" Spencer asked.

"As far as I know, He left about fifteen years ago for awhile, came back maybe seven years later," Jenkins confirmed.

Spencer turned around and I let go of him. "Ten years," he murmured.

"What's wrong kid?" Morgan asked him.

"My father was in town for ten years after he left me and my Mom, he was ten minutes away and he never let me know," Spencer said bitterly. Morgan herded us both into the car and we went back to the Fountain-View to pick up Rossi.


	32. Chapter 32

The drive to Kierschenbaum, Wieder and Moore law firm in Summerlin was almost silent. Rossi drove and Spencer sat in the passenger seat. Morgan and I sat in the back seat; I stared out the window distractedly. "Kid," Morgan whispered, sliding over to the spot next to me. Rossi looked at us in the rearview mirror. "You don't have to see him," he told me.

I sighed and looked at him, "I don't want to see him. I have to." Morgan nodded and slid back to his seat as we pulled into the driveway of the law firm.

Spencer was holding my hand again when we walked into the law firm, by now I assumed it was either a nervous habit or a protective instinct, I wasn't sure. I was thankful for it now more than ever. "Can I help you?" A secretary asked us as we approached the front desk.

"Yeah…" Spencer said. He looked like he wanted to say more, but no words followed.

"We'd like to speak with William Reid," Rossi told her, finishing for Spencer.

"Is he expecting you?" the secretary asked.

Rossi pulled out his FBI credentials, "I don't think so."

The secretary looked at them in surprise, "He's in a meeting right now, you can take a seat and I'll tell him you're here," she said, and went into an office.

Spencer had let go of my hand, he looked anxious and his was breathing strained. "You ok?" Morgan asked him, giving him the same worried look he'd given me in the car.

"Yeah… no… I'm uh, going to go to the bathroom," Spencer said nervously, and headed down the hall.

I was more worried about Spencer than I was about seeing my father. I had accepted a long time ago that I would never see my father again, so now that I was going to see him for the first time in almost exactly eight years, I just felt empty, like I didn't know what to feel.

Morgan looked after Spencer worriedly and turned to Rossi, "I've never seen him like this."

"Twenty years is a long time to go between visits," Rossi said.

"Not long enough, the kid's still angry."

"I'm starting to get that."

Rossi looked down at me, "You alright?" he asked me.

"I don't know," I said, shaking my head.

"I'll be right back," a man called into an office to the left of us. He handed a file to the secretary and turned to face us. He was almost six feet tall, had a long, slightly bent nose, dark thinning hair and brown eyes, just like Spencer's. It was my father.

My breath caught and I stared at the floor. "You're from the FBI?" He asked Rossi and Morgan.

Rossi took a deep breath, glanced at me and answered, "Yes sir, Mr. Reid. I'm Agent Rossi, this is Agent Morgan," he said, showing Dad his FBI credentials.

"And you are?" he asked, turning to me.

My heart dropped into my stomach. He didn't recognize me. "Emily Prentiss," I answered without hesitation. I wasn't ready to meet my father again. "I'm Agent Rossi's niece," I lied, shaking his hand. Morgan gave me a pitying look but said nothing about it.

"So, this wouldn't be about the city council investigation would it?" Dad asked, turning back to Rossi.

"No, this is more of a personal matter," Rossi began, leaning forward on the front desk.

"It concerns your son," said Morgan, looking irritated.

"My son?" Dad demanded, "Did  
something happen?" he asked frantically.

"That's what we're trying to find out," Spencer said behind me, finally reappearing.

William and Spencer Reid looked equally shocked to see each other. "Hello Dad." Spencer greeted him curtly. Spencer looked down at me, and I shook my head slightly. He understood immediately. Dad scratched the back of his neck, obviously uncomfortable.

"Would you like to talk in my office?" he asked finally, breaking the silence.

"That would be fine," Rossi answered, "Come on Emily," he said clearly, taking me by the shoulder and following my father down the hall.

I could feel myself shaking slightly, but I tried to keep the anger off my face. Dad's office was large and furnished with wooden bookshelves and a desk as well as black sofas. I took a seat next to my 'Uncle Dave' in the office. Dad sat across from us, but turned to face Spencer who was standing in the doorway.

"You don't look like me anymore," Dad told Spencer, staring at him. "He used to, everybody said so," he said, turning to Morgan.

Rossi glanced at Spencer and looked at me again. "Some people look like their dogs too," Spencer answered coldly, "It's attributed to mutual exposure. Elderly couples also. They unconsciously mimic the expressions of people they've been exposed to their entire life, so it makes sense that I wouldn't really look like you, I haven't seen you in over twenty years." Spencer continued, his voice was harsh. Dad nodded, looking upset by Spencer's words.

"So, you in town on work?" Dad asked. "We're just wrapping up a case," Rossi answered. "A five year old boy was abducted and murdered," Morgan added. "Yeah I read about that, uh, Ethan Hayes right? It's terrible" Dad said, crossing his legs and returning his stare to Spencer.

I was fighting every urge to get up and hit my father. He didn't even look at me. Rossi touched my arm and I knew that my frustration must be showing through. I tried to relax and leaned back on the couch.

"That case got me thinking about Riley Jenkins," Spencer said. Dad looked at Rossi and me. "Do you remember Riley Jenkins?" Spencer asked.

"Of course," Dad answered sadly. I wondered if he remembered my Mom too.

"I've been having dreams about him for a really long time, but when we came back here for this case it jogged something and the dream changed," Dad listened intently, "I saw his killer, it was you," Spencer finished, staring our father down.

"Interesting dream," Dad smirked. Rossi and Morgan were watching him closely; even I could tell he was on edge.

"You don't seem all that surprised," Morgan said, crossing his arms.

"I stopped being surprised by Spencer's mind a long time ago," Dad answered, gesturing at him.

"There are certain criteria we consider when looking at this type of suspect, you fit parts of that profile," Rossi said coolly.

"Me?" Dad asked.

"We just want your cooperation," Rossi explained.

Dad looked at the agents in shock. "My cooperation…" he scoffed."You're not actually saying you think I killed Riley Jenkins?" he laughed nervously.

The edges of Spencer's mouth turned down, "We didn't say that," he deadpanned.

"Perhaps your niece shouldn't be hearing this?" he asked Rossi.

"Oh course," he answered, "Emily, go wait in the car please," he asked me. I got up slowly and walked out of the office.

When I got to the end of the hall I ran from the building to the SUV, the secretary called after me in concern but I ignored her. I climbed into the backseat and slammed the door. I sat there for a moment, glaring at my shoes. I was shaking hard, trying to fight back tears. "I hate you," I whispered.

"I HATE YOU!" I screamed, hitting the driver's seat in front of me over and over. Then I was crying. It was his fault, all his fault that Mom died, I knew it. I tried to control myself, tried to stop crying, but it wouldn't work.

Ten minutes later the three agents returned to the car, Spencer slid into the seat next to me. He held my hand and I wiped my face with the other one, trying to hide the fact that'd I'd been crying. Morgan and Rossi didn't turn around to look at me, but I could see the sad expressions they wore. "He didn't even recognize me," I whispered. Spencer squeezed my hand and I looked up at him, his eyes filled with sadness. "You didn't tell him, did you?" I demanded. He shook his head no. "He didn't even ask," I muttered.

Morgan started the car and drove us back to the hotel. "Spencer, he recognized you, after more than twenty years he recognized you. It's been eight years since he's seen me; I look just like you, and my Mom, why didn't he recognize me?" I kept asking bitterly.

Spencer kept shaking his head and saying, "I don't know. I'm sorry."

Finally, Morgan looked at me in the rearview mirror, "So why didn't I get to be your uncle?" he asked. I started laughing despite myself, and my anger subsided for the time being.


	33. Chapter 33

"We can't get a warrant so we're going to have to go under the radar with this one Garcia," Spencer instructed the tech-analyst over the phone as we hurried through the hotel hallway.

"You want me to hack your father's network? You're sure about this?" she asked.

Spencer pulled out the room key and unlocked the door, "I really wish people would stop asking me that," he snapped. Spencer hung up and opened the door. I looked down and saw a manila envelope lying just inside the doorway. Spencer and I looked at it suspiciously as he picked it up. There was a sticky note across the lip of the envelope saying 'You're looking at the wrong guy.' The content of the parcel was a police file for Gary Michaels.

Spencer looked at it for a few moments before stuffing it back into the envelope. I walked into the room and sat down in one of the TV chairs. I leaned my head back to stare at the ceiling. "You alright?" I asked Spencer, I could hear him pacing around the room behind me. He walked over and sat in a chair next to me, mimicking my position.

"Seeing him again, after all those years," he started.

I let out a sigh, "Do you really think he killed Riley Jenkins?" I asked, "I mean really truly believe it?"

Spencer shut his eyes, "I know he's involved," he said determinedly.

I grimaced and sat up straight to look at him, "What if Rossi and Morgan are right, maybe we shouldn't go through with this," I told him.

He sat up quickly and looked at me intensely, "You don't think he had something to do with this," it wasn't a question.

"I don't know Spencer, I think he must be involved somehow, but I don't know," I said tiredly.

He gave me a worried look, "Are you alright?" he asked.

I shut my eyes and leaned back again, "To quote you earlier, I really wish people would stop asking me that."

The next day, Spencer and I met Rossi and Morgan in the hotel lobby. Spencer showed them the file and I sat by the ferns and the slot machine. A few minutes later Morgan's phone rang and I joined the agents across the room."It's Garcia," he said quietly as he answered the phone. He put it on speaker and said, "Hey baby girl."

"I'm not interrupting boy time at Crazy Horse Two, am I?" She asked.

"You know that's not my thing, I'm more for in room entertainment," he deadpanned.

"Well I can't help you there but I do give good phone."

I smothered a laugh and Morgan answered, "Let me here what you've got."

"Reids, we've been all up in your father's business," she told us.

"What'd you find?" Spencer asked, crossing his arms anxiously.

"Well let me tell you first what I didn't find, no kiddie videos, no membership to elicit websites, no dubious emails, no chat room history." I couldn't help but be relieved, as much as I disliked my father, I was glad he wasn't a child predator.

"What about his finances?" Spencer asked, not giving up on finding something on our father.

"We went back ten years, no questionable transactions that we could find," Hotch answered.

"Except moving back to Las Vegas without his family," I muttered.

"Well he did buy a ticket to see Celine Dion six months ago but I think we can overlook that," Emily joked, I smirked and felt a pang of homesickness. I missed Emily and Penelope, and even Hotch already.

"He's smart, is it possible he kept things under the table?" Spencer asked.

"Well of course, but from what we can tell Reid, he doesn't fit the profile," Hotch tried to convince him.

"We can tell you other things about him if you want to know," Emily continued.

Spencer swallowed hard and nodded, "I'm listening."

"He's a workaholic, he actually logs more hours than we do. He makes decent money but doesn't spend a lot of it. He has a modest house, he drives a hybrid, he doesn't travel much and stays away from the casinos. According to his veterinary bills he has a very sick cat. We didn't find any record of child support payments though," Emily informed us.

"Mom never applied, she always thought he'd come back," I admitted. Rossi and Morgan gave me a pitying look and returned their attention to the phone.

"Um, he appears to spend most of his free time alone, he goes to the movies a lot and he reads. And from his collection of first editions it appears his favorite author is," Hotch continued.

"Isaac Asimov," Spencer cut in, "I remember that one."

"He does have one other major interest," Penelope said, "On his home computer he's archived like a billion things on one common subject."

"What?" Spencer asked.

"You, kiddo. He's got like everything that's been published online. Every article you've been quoted in, papers you've written for behavioral science journals, he even has a copy of your dissertation."

"He's keeping tabs on you, that's saying something," Rossi reminded him.

"Yeah that he googled me, that makes up for everything. I'm going to get some air," Spencer said, storming out between the two other profilers.

"You guys still there?" Morgan asked, sounding disappointed.

"I thought we were giving him good news," Penelope said sadly.

"What else can we do?" Hotch asked.

"Yeah, look up a name for us, Gary Brendon Michaels," Said Morgan.

"Do you like him for the Riley murder?" Emily asked.

"Somebody does," Rossi said, looking down at the file again.

"Certainly my dear, if that is all…" Penelope rushed.

"Hang on," I said, taking the phone from Morgan and shutting the speaker off.

"Hey, Penelope," I said quietly.

"Hello my Pixie," she greeted, still sounding anxious.

I took a calming breath and asked, "Is there anything about me in his system?" There was silence on the other end of the line for a while, and I already knew the answer.

"Maybe he couldn't find any articles about you," Hotch suggested.

I sighed and pushed my hair out of my eyes, "Penelope, do me a favor and search me in your data base, tell me what comes up," I requested. I could hear clicking and the sound of fingers on keyboard. "Um, honor roll records, scholarship articles, your name is in your mother's obituary," Garcia informed me. I stared at the pattern on the lobby carpet.

"Well that eliminates that option," I said without surprise. "Thanks guys." I hung up the phone and handed it back to Morgan.


	34. Chapter 34

I went back to the room and took and nap. I didn't want to think about my father anymore, I was tired of it and wanted to go home, but I knew I couldn't go back to Quantico after telling Spencer that we would get through this ordeal together. When I woke up there was a text on my phone from Derek to tell me that Rossi had taken Spencer to a hypnotherapist.

A few hours later Spencer came back to the hotel. "How'd it go with the shrink?" I asked him.

Spencer didn't look up at me, just rushed around the room picking up files, "I remembered something, I saw Dad burning bloody clothes," he answered quickly.

I sat up and looked at him in surprise, "Bloody clothes?" I asked, wondering if I'd heard him correctly. He didn't answer, just kept stuffing folders into his messenger bag.

"Come on," he ordered, looking at me expectantly. I rolled off the bed and followed him out of the room, combing my hair with my fingers. Spencer rushed into the elevator and out of the hotel to the SUV.

When I was in the passenger seat I asked, "Where are we going?"

"To see my mom," he stated, as if it were obvious.

We drove back to the Bennington Sanitarium and were shown to Diana's private room. Her clothes were disheveled and her hair was uncombed today, Spencer left me in the hall. Today must not have been a 'good day.'

"Try to remember, Mom," Spencer told Diana.

"I can't," she kept touching her face, her hands were shaking.

"You were there, you watched Dad burn the bloody clothes," he stressed.

"You had a dream."

"Mom this was not a dream, this was a memory, and I saw you," he tried to convince her.

"Your mind, oh, such a treasure," Diana fawned, taking Spencer's face in her hands. "Even as a baby you knew about things you're not supposed to know."

"This is not about me, this is about Riley Jenkins."

Diana shook her head, "It was always about you."

"Please, Mom, please," Spencer whispered, sitting down with her at the edge of the bed, "Just try to remember."

Diana was holding her head in her hands, "Riley… Riley was real. Oh, poor Riley," she said sadly, suddenly remembering.

"Yes Mom, Riley, poor Riley. Did Dad do something to him?" Spencer demanded. I listened at the door anxiously, straining to catch every word.

"Dad? No!" Diana said.

"Think, think, think," Spencer repeated.

"No, no now you're confusing me Spencer, no, no," she said nervously, pulling at her hair.

"Mom, you knew about Dad and you didn't tell anyone," Spencer suggested, sounding sure that he was close to a breakthrough.

"No, no, you don't know, you don't know!" Diana yelled, tearing at her hair again.

"Mom," Spencer said worriedly.

Diana sprang up from the bed and started hitting herself in the head, screeching, "No! No!" Two nurses pushed past me into the room and moved Spencer out of the way. I rushed in after them and grabbed my brother by the arm. One nurse grabbed Diana, trying to restrain the frantic woman while the other injected her with a sedative. Spencer watched nervously, biting his lip, panic written all over his face. I held tightly to his arm, unsure of what to do.

Diana quieted and sat on the bed, clutching at her sweater and Spencer covered his face with his hands for a moment. "It could have been you," Diana murmured, the sedation evident in her voice.

Spencer pulled out of my grip and sat next to his mother again, "Mom, what did you say?"

"It could have been you," she repeated.

Spencer drove me to the hotel to meet Rossi. He said nothing on the drive, but tension and stress was radiating from him. Rossi drove us to the police department while Morgan and Spencer went to get Dad for questioning.

I stared at my father through the two-way mirror with Morgan, Spencer and Rossi. "You still think he did it, don't you?" Morgan asked Spencer.

"Why shouldn't I?"

"Well for one thing, Gary Michaels fits the profile, for another, he fled town after Riley's murder. He's a better suspect than your Dad, Reid," Morgan tried to convince him again.

"He's a convenient one," Spencer said determinedly, still staring at our father through the glass.

"Someone slipped the file under my door Morgan, what am I supposed to think?"

"Maybe they're trying to help," Rossi suggested.

"Maybe they're trying to protect him," Spencer retorted.

"You're talking about someone trying to cover up the murder of a child, who would do that?" Rossi asked, standing next to Spencer now.

"Do you remember how resistant Detective Hyde was when I asked to bring in my father?" Spencer asked, I watched Dad stand up and take his jacket off.

"It was a very old police file, anyone could have gotten it," Morgan tried.

"He told me to go back to the Fountain-View, have a drink by the pool and think about things," Spencer said.

"You can't possibly still be mad about that."

"I'm not mad, I'm confused. I never told him we were staying at the Fountain-View," Spencer told him, and headed into interrogation room.

Spencer immediately started drilling Dad with acquisitions about Riley Jenkins. He deflected each question, "I'm proud of you, Spencer," he told him.

"I'm not stupid either."

Dad leaned forward, glancing between Spencer and the table, "You've done a lot of good, I mean, other people with your talents, they might have sought different opportunities, the private sector. You could have made a fortune, but you chose to help people," Dad raved, he sounded completely sincere.

"I chose to study murderers, why do you think that is?" Spencer asked, not won over by the flattery.

"I didn't do this, Spencer. Why can't you believe me?" Dad asked, leaning back in his chair.

"Like you said, I do have special talents. And one of them is being able to tell when someone's hiding something."

"You're angry that I left. And you have every right to be," Dad said, his mouth turned in a frown.

"You want to make it up to me, tell me the truth."

Dad stared down at the table, "I didn't kill that boy. But I know who did."

"Gary Michaels," Spencer answered.

Dad looked surprised, "How did you know that?" he asked.

"That was the whole idea wasn't it?" Spencer asked, confusion creeping into his voice. "So where is Gary Michaels now Dad?" he demanded.

"Spencer please, forget it," Dad demanded. "You don't want to go down this road."

Spencer stood up to leave and turned towards the door, but stopped and turned back to Dad, "And you know what else I'm pretty good at, Dad?" he asked, glaring at our father. Dad looked up at him expectantly. "Taking care of your daughter." Dad went wide-eyed and stood up from his chair. I got closer to the glass, watching my father's reaction intensely.

"You know about Sara?" he asked quietly.

"I'm Sara's guardian," Spencer told him harshly, "She's here right now."

Dad gasped, and looked right at the glass. It was unnerving to have him staring right at me, realizing who I was, and still not seeing me. "Can I see her?" he asked suddenly, looking back at Spencer.

He shrugged, "That's her choice," he told him, and walked out, sealing the door behind him.


	35. Chapter 35

"I don't want to see him, I refuse," I told Reid as soon as the interrogation room door was shut. He nodded and didn't look at all surprised.

"Do you want me to tell him?" Rossi asked, glancing back at my father, who was sitting at the table with his head in his hands.

"He'll figure it out eventually," I said coldly.

Morgan's phone rang as we stepped into the main hallway of the police department. Rossi, Spencer and I waited for him to finish with Hotch before asking, "Is who alright?"

"JJ," he answered us, "She's in labor." I gasped and grinned happily, watching Spencer for his reaction. His eyebrows shot up, but he repressed any excitement or fear he may have experienced.

"They found Gary Michaels, at least what's left of him," Morgan broke the news to Spencer.

"He's dead?" he demanded.

"They dug him up seven years ago when some new construction broke ground in the desert," Derek explained.

"Whoever killed him was smart enough to bury him across state lines," Rossi said, "Vegas P.D. never made the connection," he shrugged.

"How was he killed?" I asked, wondering what we would do now that our likely suspect was dead.

"Well, judging from the fractures, they think he was beaten with something, pipe maybe."

"Or a bat," Rossi suggested.

"Bat?" Spencer asked thoughtfully. I made the connection too, he was thinking of a little league baseball bat. I heard footsteps behind us and I turned around. Dad was being walked out of the interrogation room, carrying his suit jacket. He stopped and looked at me, like he wanted to say something. Spencer grabbed my hand and I held onto it tightly, staring at my father. My face was blank; my father's was a mask of shock and disbelief. By now he had gathered that this was not the first time he'd seen me in eight years. He took a step towards us, and I felt Spencer become rigid next to me. Morgan and Rossi too, were staring my father down. Dad turned and walked out of the building, glancing back at Spencer and me as he walked out the door.

I let out a deep breath and turned around, "Maybe it wasn't Riley's blood on those clothes your Dad was burning," Morgan suggested, his arms still folded across his chest. Rossi and Spencer looked thoughtful as they headed into the Sheriff's office. I stayed outside the office door on one of the benches, feeling like I had a few years ago when I went to the student counselor's office.

A few minutes later the sheriff walked out and I slipped through the door behind him, entering the office. There were crime scene photos of where Gary Michaels' body had been found scattered across the conference table.

"Reid, you wanted to know if your father killed Riley, all signs point to no," Morgan was trying to convince Spencer, "You got what you need."

"What I need is the truth." Morgan walked stepped closer to Spencer, "If this print belongs to your Dad, he could go away for a long time." Spencer stared at him blankly. "You're just determined to nail him aren't you? It doesn't even matter what for," he accused.

"If you don't want to run it I will," Spencer answered sternly. Morgan gave Rossi a questioning look as Spencer walked out of the office.

"My Dad is a murderer Morgan, print or no print," I said suddenly, looking up at Derek and Rossi.

Both of their eyes widened with concern, "What are you talking about?" Rossi asked gently, placing a hand on my shoulder.

"He killed my Mom. He should be punished," I told them, my hands balling into fists. Rossi sat down in one of the chairs and Morgan knelt in front, placing both of his hands on my shoulders.

"Listen Little Reid, I know you want someone to blame, I get that, but your Mom dying wasn't William Reid's fault," Morgan said gently, looking me in the eyes.

I pulled away from him and backed out of the office, "He left. He broke her heart. Bad stuff happens, and she died. I don't see who else's fault it could be," I murmured, and returned to my chair outside the office.

Eventually, Spencer, Morgan, Rossi and I returned to the hotel. We sat waiting in the lobby for a finger print identification. Spencer and I were sitting on the couch, and his leg was bouncing nervously. A loud ring issued from Morgan's pocket and he answered the phone, Spencer looked as terrified as I felt.

"Agent Morgan," –pause- "Oh you did?" he glanced at Spencer and I, eyebrows raised. Spencer stood up, looking anxious. "You're 100% certain?" –Pause- "Ok, thank you," Morgan hung up the phone. He turned to Spencer, "We're going to have to get an arrest warrant," he announced.

"There was a match?" Spencer asked.

"Yeah, but it wasn't your Dad."

Rossi and I drove to the police station, and Spencer and Morgan went to arrest Lou Jenkins, Riley's father. I stared blankly out the window, my stomach twisting in knots. "So how do you feel?" Rossi asked me, glancing over.

I sighed, "I feel terrible. I don't want Lou Jenkins to go to jail; at least I don't think so. He was avenging the death of his little boy…" I trailed off.

"Are you sure you just aren't upset that your father won't be going to prison?" he asked. I turned and looked at him in shock, my mouth hanging open slightly. "Well that's what you wanted isn't it? I mean, like you said, he killed your Mom because of what he did, he should pay, right?" Rossi asked, his voice changed. He was interrogating me.

I shook my head, "I don't know anymore Rossi," I answered softly, and pressed my forehead against the car window.

Spencer and Derek were in the interrogation room with Lou Jenkins when we arrived at the station. I sat waiting with Rossi, supporting my head with my hands, hunched over in the chair. I saw three people rush past me and looked up, it was Diana and William Reid, accompanied by an officer to the interrogation room. I got up and followed after them, just in time to hear Diana announce, "Spencer, it was me."

Diana, William and Spencer Reid were shown to another office. I waited outside the door, my ear pressed to the crease, and I listened to Diana recount the story of the night Lou Jenkins murdered Gary Michaels. I heard Dad explain to Spencer how Diana's involvement in the murder and the knowledge of what had happened had slowly torn the marriage apart.

"You could have come back," I heard Spencer say, he sounded upset, and I desperately wanted to be in that room.

"We could have started over."

"I didn't know how to take care of you anymore," my father said, "When I lost that confidence there was no going back."

"What's done is done, at least now you know the truth," I heard Diana console her son.

"I was wrong about everything, I'm sorry," Spencer said, his voice was weak.

"I am too Spencer," my father said.

The door opened in front of me suddenly and I jumped back, Diana was walking out. She shut the door and looked at me in surprise; there were tears forming in her eyes. "Sara, if you'd like to go in, you're more than welcome," she told me.

I nodded and gave her a slight smile, "Thank you Diana, it's been very nice to meet you," I told her, putting my hand on the doorknob.

She smiled down at me, "Take care of my son."

I nodded, "I will," I assured her, and pushed the door opened.

I stepped inside the room, keeping my eyes on the floor, and closed the door behind me. I stood there for a moment and Spencer stood up and put an arm around me. "Hello Sara," my father greeted, rising from the couch as well.

"Hi," I said quietly, raising my eyes to meet his. He looked lost, so I started. "Eight years," I stated. He nodded and looked down at the floor. He sat in the chair Diana had occupied and motioned for me to take the couch. I pulled away from Spencer and the two of us sat down across from him.

"I'm sorry I didn't recognize you," he started, staring at me, "I know that must have upset you," he said apologetically.

"Very perceptive of you," I said coldly, "Perhaps you've also perceived that Mom's gone."

He nodded and looked at me sadly, "I'm so sorry, Laura was a good person."

"I know," I snapped.

"You look like her," he told me and I nodded. "She was the cutest little girl, Spencer," he told my brother, "Your hair was lighter then, and you didn't have glasses. You look like Spencer actually," Dad said, smiling a little.

"I get that a lot," I told him, my face still blank, emotionless.

I leaned forward on the couch, sitting on the edge, "So did you ever look up Spencer?" I asked him, already knowing the answer.

He nodded, "Yes, I saved some articles about his FBI career," he answered truthfully.

"What about me, Dad? Did you ever look me up?"

He took a breath and leaned back in his chair, "No."

"And, uh, why is that Dad?" I asked. He stayed silent. "Oh, I know, maybe because the second family wasn't that important. Or maybe because I could never have been as good as your first child? I was no genius, nothing special, right? Maybe it's just because I wasn't worth the time!" I suggested sarcastically, anger boiling up in my chest.

Dad took a breath, "I don't have an answer for you, I'm sorry," he said, crossing his arms.

"I want to know why you left."

He shut his eyes and sat for a minute before starting, "Do you remember our trip to Las Vegas?" he asked. I nodded, watching him skeptically. "I wanted to find Spencer, to check up on him. But when I got to the house where we used to live, another family had moved in. I asked around, and Lou said that Spencer had gone away to college, Diana had gone to a hospital," he stopped there and I nodded for him to continue. "I felt so guilty, so terrible for being a father like that. I started doubting every decision I made with you, Sara. Your Mom and I started arguing, and our family started falling apart. Laura Ryan was nice, smart, I knew she could take care of you, maybe find someone else. So I left."

I shut my eyes, absorbing what he'd told me. "She tried, and she tried hard. She wanted to find someone else, but she was fixated on you," I opened my eyes, "You know she got addicted to her prescriptions? It kept getting worse. She wanted to move on, she met lots of guys," I said angrily. "There was this one guy, Rich. He was great, like this one time," I stopped to laugh sarcastically, my father's eyes growing dark, "This one time he hit her! Can you believe it? So I just… chased him from the house with a gun! How 'bout that?" I asked, raising my arms in mock surprise.

"I'm so sorry," he whispered, pressing his hands to his head, as if trying to keep it together by force.

"Yeah, me too. Sorry I had to come home to find my mother dead. But hey, if that's what you thought was best for me, oh well," I said quickly, glaring at my father.

"I hope that one day you can forgive me," he begged, his voice now a whisper.

I stood from my seat, and my demeanor changed. "I forgave you a long time ago Dad. And it's taken a long time to forgive myself for letting her die. But I will never forget it." I walked to the office door and stopped, "I do want to thank you though," I said quietly.

My father's eyes widened, "What on Earth for?"

"For Spencer. He and his team are the best family I could have ever asked for. So next time you read an article about one of those agents, know that you have them to thank for taking care of me," I told him. I reached for the doorknob, "I missed you Dad," I whispered sadly. I walked out of the office and didn't look back.


	36. Chapter 36

~There is no refuge from memory and remorse in this world. The spirits of our foolish deeds haunt us, with or without repentance~

When we flew back to Quantico in the evening I couldn't help feeling empty inside, like there was so much to feel that I was numb. Spencer and I sat next to each other and Morgan and Rossi were across the row from us. Spencer nodded off as soon as the plane took off, I couldn't sleep so I traced the lines on his hand with my fingers.

By the end of the flight Morgan and Rossi were exhausted and left, while Spencer and I hailed a cab and headed to the hospital. "You forgave him," Spencer said.

I nodded, "I had to."

"Why?" I stared at my knees and smiled, "Because I had to."

Spencer gave me a puzzled look, "But that statement has no real meaning."

"Exactly."

We were shown to JJ's room in the maternity ward, I could hear voices inside but Spencer hesitated at the door. "Nervous?" I asked.

He grimaced, "Terrified," he answered shortly. I smirked and he knocked on the door frame, "Room for two more?" he called in.

"Spence, Sara, hi," JJ greeted, a small blue bundle in her arms. Will was at her side, gazing down at her lovingly. Prentiss and Garcia were grinning broadly and even Hotch looked completely thrilled. I took a mental snapshot of the scene, promising myself I'd remember it forever.

"Welcome back," Hotch greeted. His arms were crossed as usual, but he was smiling brightly.

"Wow," Spencer said, awed. "Congratulations," he told Will, shaking his hand.

"Oh JJ, he's perfect!" I fawned, straining to see a tiny pink face among the blankets.

"How is it that I just went through fifteen hours of labor and you two look worse than I do?" JJ asked us.

"Don't be ridiculous, you look beautiful," Spencer insisted.

"You look great… fifteen hours?" I asked.

JJ smiled and gave Will a pointed look, "Hey I could sure go for a coffee, anyone else?" he asked the group. Will patted Spencer on the shoulder, "Watch her, Reids," he told us as he and the agents walked out of the room.

The baby in JJ's arms let out a little cry and Spencer seemed to gravitate towards him. "You ok?" JJ asked us.

"Wow," Spencer whispered, looking down at the baby. "Yeah, yeah, you?" he answered.

"You sure? Because there's something I wanted to ask you, but it can wait," she told him, the baby sucking on her fingers.

"What is it?" JJ looked down at her son proudly, "Will and I were talking," she said, and looked up at Spencer, smiling, "We want you to be Henry's godfather."

Spencer looked completely overwhelmed, "I don't even, I don't know…" Reid stuttered. My hand flew to my mouth, covering a smile.

"Do you want to hold him?" she asked suddenly, handing him the bundle, Spencer's eyes went wide. "No, no it's ok," she assured him.

He took the baby in his arms, staring down at his little face, "Hi, hello Henry," he greeted.

"If anything should happen to us, it's up to you and Garcia to make sure this boy gets into Yale."

"Yale? Yale! Do you want to go to Yale, Henry?" he asked the baby, "That was your god father's safety school," he told him proudly. "Don't worry, I can get you into Cal-Tech with one phone call," he whispered. JJ and I smiled at the scene.

I stepped closer hesitantly, "Hi, Henry," I whispered, peeking into the blanket. "Wow, look at you, you could grow up to be a Doctor, or a Detective like your Dad, maybe a liaison like your Mom, you've certainly got the face for it," I assured Henry.

"Do you want to hold him, Sara?" JJ asked. "Um, I'm not sure that's a good idea…" I said quickly, my hands flying up.

"It's easy, here, sit down," Spencer instructed. I perched at the edge of JJ's hospital bed and Spencer handed Henry to me.

"Watch his head," JJ told me. I cradled the little bundle, peering down at him, smiling.

"Hi baby, hi Henry," I cooed. "We're going to be good friends, you and I," I told him, grinning down at the scrunched up little face.

Will and the small group of agents crept back into the room and I heard Penelope and Emily gasp. "Are you crying?" Hotch asked me. I glared at him and carefully wiped away the tears forming in my eyes.

"No, it was just raining on my face, isn't that right Henry?" Spencer sat beside me, gazing down at the baby again. "Very good friends," I whispered.


	37. Chapter 37

_Author's note: Episode 4x08 Masterpiece, Criminalmindslove69, I'm using your prompt in part of this chapter, it will probably pop again up some time later..._

Most teenage girls spend their weekend going to the mall or watching movies. I go to FBI recruitment lectures.

Rossi, Spencer and I drove for 45 minutes to Strayter University so they could give a recruitment lecture, and I'd asked to sit in. Spencer was rambling about existentialism or something, but I found myself distracted.

"What are you looking at?" Spencer asked me suddenly, breaking off from his spiel.

"What?"

"You haven't responded to anything I've said in the last ten minutes," he told me.

"Oh, sorry," I said, waving him away. "No you're not, you've been more focused on that group of boys than you are on existentialists, you were just asking about them the other day…" he trailed off. Rossi nodded knowingly. "Oh, I see, you find them attractive!" Spencer exclaimed as we passed another group of college boys.

"Shut up!" I hissed, putting my head down.

"Oh! You so do!" Spencer laughed, prodding me in the shoulder. Rossi opened the door of one of the many campus buildings for us, I saw him smirking.

"Stop it Spencer!" I insisted, stamping my foot. He started laughing loudly, drawing the attention of several students.

"You know it's completely normal for a person your age to-" I punched him in the side, hard.

"I will hide all the coffee in the apartment every morning for a month if you do not stop talking," I told him, arching my eyebrows.

"Fine, fine," he surrendered as we entered the already partly filled lecture hall. "You so do," he whispered, and took off to the stage.

I found a seat in the third row, about eye level with Spencer and Rossi, and pulled out a notebook to scribble in. A guy in his early twenties with dark hair sat down next to me, "Good seats, right?" he asked, also pulling out a notebook. I nodded, "Do you go here?" he asked me, suddenly noticing my age.

"No, I'm just sitting through, my brother's speaking," I told him, motioning to Spencer with my pen.

He looked impressed and put his hand out, "Daniel," he introduced.

I shook his hand, "Sara." I saw Spencer smirk at me from the stage, and I glared back at him.

The lecture hall filled very quickly and the talk began. Rossi started by introducing himself and Spencer, and about what the FBI does. They then started in on the recruitment process, "Most of us have done extensive post-graduate work in areas such as abnormal psychology and sociology, as well as intensive study of relative case work and existing literature," Spencer said, talking about the BAU.

"But that's after selection to the unit, first you have to be an agent, work in the field, and that's what we're here to talk about," Rossi said, he was leaned against a desk, looking much more comfortable than Spencer.

"And for that, the academics are wide open. Everyone in this room, when you graduate, regardless of your core study, is eligible to apply to the FBI."

Daniel looked up from the notes he'd been taking meticulously, "What did you study?" he asked Rossi.

"Criminal justice, but sports appreciation was filled up at my community college," he answered, sparking some laughter from the students.

He motioned to Spencer, "I hold doctorates in Chemistry, Mathematics and Engineering, as well as BA's in Psychology and Sociology." The room was silent for a few moments.

"How old are you?" a girl in the back asked.

"I'm 28, as of last month. I'm also completing an additional BA in philosophy, which reminds me that I have a joke." I went wide-eyed and Rossi gave him a skeptical look. "How many existentialists does it take to screw in a light bulb?" I started shaking my head, urging him to stop, but Spencer didn't see me. "Two, one to change the light bulb, and one to observe how it symbolizes an incandescent beacon of subjectivity in a netherworld of cosmic nothingness," he laughed a bit at his own joke, he was the only one.

"Half brother," I muttered to Daniel, and put my forehead to the desk, wishing I hadn't laughed when he'd told it to me yesterday.

"Um, an existentialist is-"

"Ok, before he tells his quantum physics knock-knock joke," Rossi saved, again enticing laughter from the crowd, "Do we have any more questions about opportunities in the FBI?"

A man down the row from me called out, "Did you ever shoot anybody?" Rossi and Spencer didn't look amused.

After the lecture I caught up to Reid and Rossi in the hallway, where they were being thanked by students for the talk. I latched onto Spencer's arm as we waded through the sea of students. "You do know we actually want them to join the bureau?" Rossi asked.

"I know," Spencer said, clearly not understanding where he'd gone wrong.

"We want these kids to think it's a cool place to work," Rossi stressed, shaking more hands.

"C'mon, existentialism?" I asked.

"Hey, you were great," a girl told Spencer as we passed. "Hi" he answered awkwardly.

"Hey, that was a funny joke," he defended.

"Yeah, to Sigmund Freud," Rossi said.

"You laughed yesterday," Spencer reminded me.

"It was a pity laugh."

"I don't know why they keep sending me here!" Spencer said, turning to Rossi.

"Because you're young," he explained, stopping at the top of the steps.

"Doctor Reid," someone behind us called, "Wouldn't they sit in the dark and hope the bulb decided to light again?" The man asked. His hair was white and shoulder length and wore a white jacket, he was about my height. "An existentialist would never change the bulb, he would allow the darkness to exist," he explained, putting a finger to his chin.

"Yeah, that's pretty good," Spencer laughed, heading down the stairs.

The man followed, "I'm Professor Rothschild," he introduced, "Brilliant presentation, brilliant! You're a remarkably effective recruitment tool," he complimented.

"Well if he can only recruit professors, maybe not as useful as he'd like to be," I joked, squeezing my brother's arm.

The man ignored me, "The FBI is lucky to have you."

"Well thank you for saying that," Spencer smiled, Rossi looked put off.

"I'm sorry, and you are?" the professor asked, turning to me.

"Sara Reid, Doctor Reid's sister," I introduced. He nodded curtly and turned back to Spencer.

"May I show you something?" he asked, producing a large black folder.

"Of course," he answered, taking the folder. Inside were seven pictures of women, all appeared to be screaming, a bright light above them. "I'm sorry, what are these?" Spencer asked. Rothschild clasped his hands together, tapping his thumbs.

"Seven homicides, seven women, bodies have never been found. Not a fingernail or hair fiber. Acid is a very tidy way of disposing of something," he explained, taking back the pictures.

"Acid," Rossi repeated.

"You're saying that you killed these women?" Spencer asked, reaching for my hand.

"There is still time to save the others though," Rothschild continued unaffectedly.

"Others?" Rossi asked, glancing up at Reid.

"Five more."

"What do you mean?" Spencer asked.

"In a bit less than nine hours, five other people are going to be dead," Rothschild answered, looking down at his watch, "Unless, you can find a way to save them," he said, and tossed the pictures into the air.


	38. Chapter 38

Rothschild was led out to the SUV by two campus security guards, Spencer hadn't let go of my hand, and Rossi was calling Hotch. Spencer opened the car door for Rothschild, "I'll sit in the back with him, I don't want you near him," Spencer told me.

"Miss Reid," Rothschild called. I ignored him, "Miss Reid," he called again.

"What?" I demanded, turning around.

"Are you afraid of me Miss Reid?" he asked curiously.

Spencer tugged at my wrist, "And why would I be afraid of a pathetic little man like you?" I asked, my voice was hostile.

Rothschild was taken aback, "I had hoped that someone sharing the same genetics as Doctor Reid would be of higher intelligence, I can see that I was incorrect, you seem to be to completely average and not at all intelligent," he said, turning away from me.

"And I would have thought the same thing about one who goes by 'professor.' It appears to me, Professor Rothschild, that you must be fairly intelligent." I smiled darkly, "As you can see, Mr. Rothschild, both of our initial conclusions are incorrect, I find you unintelligent and uninteresting." I slammed the door and turned to Spencer, "Sorry, there's no way I'm getting in that car."

Spencer sighed and looked at me seriously, "What do you suggest I do with you then?"

"I could stay here," I suggested.

He glanced back at the SUV, "Alright."

Rossi hung up with Hotch and turned to us, "Do not forget a word he says for the rest of the time we have him," he told Reid, and rushed around to the driver's side.

"Please be careful," Spencer told me again, and got in the passenger's seat. I waved goodbye as they drove off, "No parties!" he yelled out the window.

I laughed and looked around; there was a river of students rushing past me in all directions, I had no idea where to go. I pushed my way through the oncoming crowd, yelling "excuse me" at everyone until I reached the office building on the campus. I found the triangular directory and stood on my toes to scan through the list of potential destinations.

I decided on the Art Department and set off through one of the lawns. There were very few students milling around now, I assumed that classes had started so I didn't have to push through people. I passed the blonde girl from the lecture who stopped me and handed me a card, "I'm having a party next Saturday, ask your brother to stop by," she told me. I nodded and she kept walking, I looked down at the note, which had a little heart drawn next to the phone number. I rolled my eyes and stuffed the note in my backpack.

The art department was a large white building with marble tile and multiple levels. My footsteps echoed on the floor with each step, it made me nervous and I tried to walk lightly. There was a lot of modern art, geometric sculptures and Van Gogh interpretations. I wandered around on the upper floor, rushing past a classroom as quietly as possible, and found a cluster of collages and mixed media art work. There was one canvas at the back of the room that particularly appealed to me, it went almost floor to ceiling, and I sat down on the floor to look up at it.

"I like this one too," a voice from behind me said. I jumped up and spun around, "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to startle you," a man said, his voice friendly.

I smiled and nodded once, "That's alright." The man was tall, broad-shouldered, probably in his mid fifties.

"Excuse me for asking, do you go here?" he asked me, looking at the sculpture in the center of the room.

I shook my head, "You're the second person to ask that today, no I was just here for a lecture," I said, turning back to the canvas.

"Really, what lecture?"

"The FBI recruitment lecture."

He smiled and started walking around the room, looking at the paintings and collages, "You're interested in the FBI?"

I laughed slightly, "You could say that." I finished looking through the room I was in, "Do you want to walk through with me?" I asked the man.

He smiled, "I'd like that, thank you." We walked through another corridor, the echoing was much louder now, but I didn't feel so out of place anymore.

"So I take it you don't work here," I said after a few minutes.

"What makes you say that?" he asked curiously.

My face reddened slightly, "Well, no offense but you're a bit older than the students here," he laughed and nodded, "You're not a teacher, at least in this department."

"What makes you say that?" he asked as we walked. "Well, if you were you wouldn't be looking at the art work, seeing as you would have seen it all already when it was first put up." He nodded. "You're not an administrator; the only time they would look at student work is when there are people are around to see- to notice that you take an interest in student life and so forth. And you're not janitorial staff or security, you'd be wearing a uniform or have an ID card," I finished.

"Impressive," he commented, "And you're correct, I don't work here. I used to lecture here as well." I nodded and paused at a photograph of the campus. "You remind me of an old friend," he said, looking at the picture as well. I raised my eyebrows, "He was a colleague of mine, much younger than I was. A mind like you wouldn't believe," he said, reminiscing.

I smiled, "Sounds like my brother, he was lecturing today actually."

My companion stopped in his tracks, "Who is your brother?" he asked, staring at me.

"Doctor Spencer Reid," I said hesitantly.

The man's eyes lit up suddenly, "Well it seems we're talking about the same person," he said, putting out his hand. I shook it and smiled, "It's a pleasure to meet you Miss Reid," he said.

"It's Sara, nice to meet you sir," I said, "Who would you be?"

"Jason Gideon."


	39. Chapter 39

I gasped, "You mean Jason Gideon, former FBI Jason Gideon?" I asked.

He smiled warmly, "The same."

"Well it is a pleasure to meet you, sir!" I exclaimed.

"Jason, please. Sara would you allow me to buy you lunch? There's a food court very close to here."

I nodded, "I'd be delighted, Jason."

Jason Gideon purchased burgers and fries from the campus food court and we sat down on a bench near the main campus walkway. "I hadn't realized Spencer had a sister, you look alike, you and him," Jason said.

I ate a few fries, "We get that a lot. I'm his half-sister; he took me in about six months ago."

My companion nodded, "I haven't seen Spencer in a long time, where is he now, how is he?" Gideon asked, his tone was almost fatherly.

"He lives up at Quantico, he's doing well. He talks about you sometimes."

Jason smiled sadly, "Does he?" I nodded.

"So where have you been sir, what have you been doing?" I asked, remembering when Penelope had told me about their old boss leaving.

"Well Sara, I've been traveling, seeing this beautiful country," he said, gazing out over the campus, "Looking for my old belief in happy endings."

I nodded, "That's really lovely Jason… did you find it?"

He crumpled up the wrapping from his burger, "That's an excellent question Miss Reid; I suppose I'm still finding it."

I nodded, looking down at my shoes, "I'd like to say I know the feeling," I told him.

He cocked his head to the side, "What do you mean?"

I bit my lip, "When my Mom died, I felt like everything was kind of… over, I guess. I didn't have anything or anyone left, you know? Then I found Spencer, and everything was alright again."

"I think you know the feeling very well," Gideon agreed.

I crushed the food containers and paper into a ball and tossed it into the trashcan. Jason stood up and started strolling down the walkway, I walked beside him, "JJ had a baby," I told him, he grinned brightly.

"My, things have changed since I've been gone," he smiled.

"Garcia and Spencer are the god parents." I walked through a pile of dead leaves, enjoying the crunch they made with each step I took.

"How is the tech analyst, Garcia?" he asked me.

I laughed, "Well, she's pretty much insane, as always."

Jason grinned, "I remember once when I stayed in her office for a while, she was so angry with me by the time I left I thought she might quit," he told me.

I updated Gideon on the lives of the team, and he told me some stories about them as well as we walked through the campus. Student poured out of a nearby building, and I motioned for Jason to sit down on a bench with me, "I'd rather not get trampled again," I told him.

Jason sat and watched the college students rush past us, "What I'd give to be young and carefree like that again," he said to no one in particular.

"You still could, sir," I said hopefully. He looked at me curiously, "I'm sure you've seen a lot of bad things in your life, but you've also seen a lot of good. And I think that the good things can always manage to outweigh the bad, as long as you want them to."

My companion gave a small smile, "It's amazing the things you know at your age, imagine what you'll know when you're twenty," he whispered.

"I think the most important thing about knowing more, is not forgetting what you already knew," I said.

"I think we're safe now," Gideon said, motioning to the now empty walkway. We continued on our campus tour, chatting about chess and the adventures Jason had gone on in the last few years. He told me about the Grand Canyon, endless highways through fields and towns long forgotten, little road side diners. Eventually we circled back to the art department.

"Well, Sara Reid, it has been a pleasure meeting you, but I must be leaving now," he said quietly.

"Are you sure? I mean, Spencer would love to see you I'm sure," I told him, searching desperately for a way to keep Gideon there.

"I'd like to see him too, but I have a flight to catch, I'm meeting some friends for a trip," he apologized.

"Wait, one minute," I insisted, tearing through my backpack, "Here, write, or visit, or call, anytime. Please, sir." I wrote down the apartment phone number twice and our address and handed it to Gideon.

He folded it and put the paper in his wallet, "I will, I promise," he assured me.

I shook his hand and smiled up at him, "It's been an absolute pleasure meeting you, Jason Gideon," I told him.

"And you, Sara Reid, I wish you and your brother the very best," he smiled back. He released my hand, walked down the street past a row of cars and drove away. I sat down on the steps in front of the art building, suddenly shaking and nervous. "The Jason Gideon," I whispered to myself. I leaned against the stair railing and watched the bustle of college students go by. A few more students from the lecture recognized me and stopped to say hello.

Two hours later Spencer called, sounding pleased, "Are you alive?" he asked me.

"Weird  
thing for you to ask… but yes I'm alive and well. What about Rothschild?"

"He'll be going away for a very, very long time."

I did a small victory dance, "So when are you coming?" I asked.

"I'm on my way, twenty minutes."

Twenty minutes later, Spencer pulled up to the area outside the lecture hall and got out of the car. I ran my brother and wrapped him in a hug, "Um, hello," he greeted, sounding surprised, "Anything interesting happen?" he asked.

"Well, you were invited to a party, and three girls asked me to pass their numbers on to you," I told him, producing four crumpled papers from my backpack. Spencer blushed and waved the papers away. "Also, I met an old friend of yours," I said.

"Really, who's that?" he asked, opening the car door for me.

"I met Gideon," I said hesitantly. Spencer's eyes went wide, "I gave him our phone number and address," I told him, wondering what he was thinking.

"Oh, um, wow." I nodded. "So, how was he?" Spencer finally asked.

"Happy, he seems happy. He wanted to stay to see you, but he had a flight to catch. He asked about you though."

Spencer smiled brightly, "What did you think of him?" he asked me, climbing into the driver's side.

"I think I understand why you talk about him so much." Spencer smiled and started the car, and we began the drive back to Quantico.


	40. Chapter 40

"Spencer, is it ok if some of my friends sleep over tonight?" I asked my brother. He was late for work and I was watching him rush around the apartment from my perch on the kitchen counter.

"What? Um, sure," he said as he shut the apartment door behind him. I stared at the door blankly, wondering whether he'd heard me or not.

I shrugged, "Oh well," I said to myself, and picked up the phone.

It was 6 pm when Spencer Reid returned; he'd stopped at the store on his way home and was now carrying a gallon of milk and a bag of groceries down the hall to his apartment. He could hear the TV on inside and unlocked the door.

"Hi, Spencer!" I called from my seat on the couch.

He set down his groceries and looked up in surprise, "Hello, um, who are all these people?" he asked, gesturing at my friends.

I stood up and pulled him by the arm over to the group, "Allison, Katie, and Ellen," I introduced, each of my friends waving in turn.

Spencer smiled awkwardly, "Uh, hello," he greeted. The girls returned their attention to the television, we were watching James Bond movies, and Spencer pulled me into the kitchen. "So, when are they leaving? And why are they all in pajamas?" he whispered.

"Tomorrow, Spencer. You said I could invite some friends to sleep over," I said innocently.

"No, I didn't," he frowned.

"Yeah, you did," I assured him. I patted Spencer on the arm and returned to my friends.

Spencer looked at the group of teenagers, and hurried into his room. He dialed a number quickly and prayed someone would pick up. "Hello?"

"Hi, Morgan it's Reid."

"What's wrong kid?"

"My apartment is full of teenagers."

Derek laughed, "What? How many?"

"Three teenage girls. Apparently they're supposed to sleep here," The younger agent explained, sounding panicked.

"And you thought it would be best to call me?" Morgan asked skeptically. Spencer didn't answer, "Alright, I'll be there in ten minutes," Morgan assured him before hanging up.

"So that's your brother?" Ellen asked me eagerly.

"Yeah, so?" I asked, turning to look at her sitting on the floor.

"But he's so cute!" Katie exclaimed, glancing down the hall to make Spencer couldn't hear.

I looked at them both in disgust, "You guys are weird," I told them, "At least you're normal Ali," I said. My friend looked at the floor in embarrassment. "Don't tell me you think he's cute too!" I cried loudly, which was met by shushing from all three. "Oh, the shame! I don't know if I can be friends with you people anymore!" I laughed. Spencer reentered the room, met by stares from my friends.

Spencer bit his lip nervously and looked down at us, "Hello again," he greeted, putting his hands in his pockets. "Hi!" my friends said in unison. I hid my face in my hands, ashamed of my strange friends. Spencer stood there for another minute, rocking back and forth on his heels, before turning around and retreating to the kitchen.

Hoping to distract my friends, I pulled out my iPod, "Who wants to see pictures of my god nephew?" I asked, loading a picture of baby Henry. Ellen immediately snatched the device away from me and my friends started 'awing' over the pictures of the newborn. I smirked at Spencer, but he seemed oblivious as to why the girls had been so fixated on him.

There was a knock at the front door and Spencer practically ran to open it. "Hello ladies, I brought dinner!" I heard Morgan call from the front hall. My friends swarmed into the kitchen without hesitation, but stopped in their tracks when they caught sight of Derek.

I walked up behind them and patted them on the shoulders, "Ali, Ellen, Katie, meet Derek Morgan. Derek Morgan, meet my friends," I introduced, smothering back a laugh. Derek grinned and set down three trays of pizza. I nudged my friends back to life and we tore into the pizza.

Ali, Ellen and Katie retreated to the living room, I could hear them whispering and giggling. I put my elbows against the kitchen counter and looked at my brother incredulously, "You got scared by the teenage girls in your apartment, so you called _Morgan_?" I asked. Spencer shrugged, "Every teenage girl in the city is going to show up now!" I exclaimed. Derek laughed and bit into a slice of pizza. I shook my head and returned to the living room.

Derek and Spencer followed me in and sat on the floor in front of the couch. Katie got up from her seat in my chair and took a picture of Ali, Ellen and I with the two agents. The men watched 'Die Another Day,' with us before Morgan decided to go home. I heard him wish Spencer luck as he left the apartment.

While Spencer walked Derek out, Ellen turned to me and whispered, "That was Derek Morgan?"

I looked at her in surprise, "Why do you keep asking for confirmation? Yes, that was Morgan. Dare I ask, why?"

Allison and Katie looked at me in shock, "Because he's…"

"Super-mega-foxy-awesome-hot!" Allison yelled. The four of us laughed as Spencer came back to the room.

"Well… I'm going to go read… Call if you need anything," he said awkwardly before hurrying away.

"Night, Spence." I called after him. My friends and I spent the rest of the night watching TV, raiding the refrigerator and taking pictures on our phones or iPods, finally falling asleep after 4 am.

The next day at the FBI, Spencer Reid walked to his desk more tiredly than usual, clutching his mug of coffee like a life line. He was trying to focus on the report he was working on when he heard a very strange noise- giggling. He looked over at the desk across from him at Emily Prentiss and Penelope Garcia, they were both focused a computer screen.

"What are you looking at?" he asked them, craning his neck to see.

Garcia snorted and asked, "Did Sara have a sleep over last night?"

Spencer looked at the women in confusion, "Yeah, how did you know that?"

Prentiss laughed, "Come look," she said, waving him over.

Doctor Reid looked down at the screen suspiciously, "What? What is this? He demanded.

"Well, one of Sara's friends posted these on Facebook…" Prentiss explained. Spencer clapped a hand to his forehead and watched Garcia scroll through the pictures, many of which featured him.

"I think this one is especially charming," Prentiss said, holding back laughter. She opened one of the last pictures; it showed the four girls at the bottom of the screen in a darkened room, each making a comical face. Spencer didn't see anything wrong with it until he looked at the background.

"What the-?" he yelled, turning away from the screen. The picture had been taken in _his_ bed room, in the background Spencer could be seen asleep in his bed. It was captioned _'Sara's hot brother!'_

Spencer picked up his messenger bag and headed for the door. "Wait, where are you going?" Garcia called after him.

"To kill my sister!"


	41. Chapter 41

_Author's note: Episode 4x09 52 Pickup, it's now roughly December in the story_

It was the beginning of winter, snow had been trying to fall all week, but none ever stuck to the ground. I unlocked the door to the apartment and dropped my coat and bag in the front hallway. I was already hungry so I immediately searched the fridge for something to eat. Upon unearthing a yogurt cup from the back of the refrigerator, I stiffed it suspiciously, as I couldn't remember ever buying yogurt, and started eating it with a spoon.

I noticed the light on the answering machine beeping, so I hit the play back button and plopped down on the couch to listen. _'You've reached the home phone of Spencer and Sara Reid, leave a message: BEEP: Sara, its Spencer. We're going to Atlanta; I might be gone a few days. Go see Garcia, do your homework, bye.' _I rolled my eyes at the last part of the message, who did he think I was? Morgan? I set down the half finished yogurt and got up from the couch.

I went to my room and changed into leggings and a long sweater, picked up my FBI visitor's pass, coat and backpack again and walked to the bus stop. Ten minutes later I was opening the door to Garcia's office, she was on the phone with Agent Todd and I tried to be quiet.

"Garcia, is there any leverage you can give me that will help with the Holden family?" Todd asked, her voice serious as usual.

Penelope's hands flew across her keyboard, "Sugar, if they broke the law that'd be one thing but they haven't done anything wrong."

"What about public record? Anything that might explain why the family shut down?"

"Oh there are scads of blog postings on them; the Holden's were movers and shakers in the city. And nasty stuff follows money," Penelope said, calling up several blog sites, each featuring a picture with the same young woman in a club setting.

I set down my bag and pulled up next to the tech analyst in another wheeled desk chair. "Like what?" asked Todd.

"'The Holden's got what they had coming to them,' 'Why did Ashley get her sister killed?' Yikes, 'How much to gut the slutty one,'" Penelope read with a tone of disgust.

"Could you forward those to me?"

"Certainly dear," said Penelope as she hung up. "Hello Pixie," she greeted me, her hands still flying across keyboards.

"Hi Penelope, what kind of psycho today?" I asked, spinning in my chair.

"Please do not ask me to answer that sweetness," she said sternly, looking up from her monitors, "Reid said you had homework?"

I groaned, "What's with him today and homework?" Garcia smiled and I begrudgingly stood up to get my science text-book.

After a few minutes of answering review questions in my notebook, I looked up at Penelope, "Is it weird of me to dislike her?" I asked, tapping my pencil against the book cover.

She glanced at me in surprise, "Well I don't really know, why don't you like Agent Todd?" she asked.

I shrugged and closed the notebook, already finished with the questions, "She's just so… not JJ. I don't trust her," I confessed.

Penelope smiled, "Well, you can't expect her to be JJ, since she's not. And she's new, so why would you trust her? But yeah, I miss her too," she said quickly, already understanding some of my dislike of Agent Todd.

The next day after school I went straight to the FBI, deciding that wearing my uniform for a few extra hours was worth hanging out in the tech-lair. Garcia was working when I entered the office, and I bent down to look at one of the screens, "Ew, who is this guy?" I asked, looking at a photo of a man with dark jelled hair, several earrings and wearing a purple suit jacket.

"That, my darling, is 'Viper,' he teaches men to pick up women in clubs, and apparently also taught our unsub," Penelope explained, sifting through a list of names.

"Really? Are you sure he's not the unsub?" I asked, glancing at another of the monitors. "Make women want you," I read, stopping to laugh at some of the tips, "This is so pathetic, who buys this?" I asked.

Garcia laughed and continued searching, "Not our Emily," she said a minute later.

"What?" I demanded, looking up from Viper's website.

"Yeah, Hotch was just telling me, he totally hit on Prentiss when they went to interview him," she laughed.

I gasped, "That's gross!" I cried, fighting back laughter at the thought.

It was just after 3 am the next morning when I awakened by the piercing sound of the phone ringing. I groaned loudly and rolled out of bed, hurrying down the hall to make the ringing stop as quickly as possible. "Who is this?" I demanded tiredly.

"Good morning to you too," Spencer answered cheerfully.

"What Reid?" I asked, fisting my eye with one hand.

"We caught the unsub, we're coming home," Spencer announced.

"Fantastic," I said sarcastically, "But I'm sure I would have figured it out in the morning," I hung up and went back to sleep on the couch.

It was Saturday when I woke up the next morning, I could smell coffee wafting in from the kitchen. Doctor Spencer Reid was sipping coffee from his FBI mug, watching me amusedly. "What?" I asked, straightening my hair.

"You couldn't even make it down the hall?" he asked, smirking at me.

I stood up and pointed at him, "Shut up." I padded into the kitchen and poured some coffee into my TARDIS mug. "So how'd it go? Garcia said that you, Morgan, Emily and Todd went to a club, for research purposes of course," I said, trying to sound serious.

"Ha, very funny. The unsub abducted a bartender from the club we were at, she called me and we got to her in time."

I set my mug down, "Wait, rewind, called you?" I asked, arching an eyebrow.

I took a sip of my drink and Spencer sighed, "Morgan gave me some advice on giving out fliers, I gave one to the bartender, showed her a magic trick. Then she asked for my number, she got abducted, we saved her," he sped through quickly. I sit some of my coffee back into the mug.

"Asked for your number? Wait, was she pretty?" I asked, completely shocked.

Spencer rolled his eyes, "Yes, ok, and yes," he said, sounding exasperated.

I set down my coffee cup and walked around the counter, wrapping my arms around Spencer's neck, "Oh, Spencer! I'm so proud of you!" I gushed, much to his displeasure.

He pushed me away and pointed a finger at me, "Shut up," he demanded, and took another sip from his coffee.


	42. Chapter 42

_Author's note: episode 4x11_

"Ok, there should be a light switch… Please… Where are you light switch?" I said to myself. I was in the basement of the apartment building, working my way over to Spencer's storage area in the dark. After what seemed an eternity of running my hand along the wall I found the switch and the room flooded with light. "Yes! Thank you!" I cheered as the darkness vanished. I walked over to storage locker 3B, a medium-sized caged in area secured by a deadbolt. I took the key I'd found upstairs and unlocked the door.

I clapped my hands together and looked around, "Alright, Christmas decorations," I said, glancing at the various boxes and bins that filled the space. I opened at least eight boxes of various Halloween ornaments and a set of dishes, but no Christmas decorations. I sighed and crossed my arms, "Where are you hiding?" I asked aloud. I dug through another set of boxes and finally found a small one marked 'Christmas.' I picked up the lone box and carried it up the stairs, deciding to leave the lights on for someone else.

I took the box up to the apartment and cut the tape off the top. Inside was a wreath, a string of lights and an ornate snow globe. I stood up and looked at the meager contents of the box, "That can't possibly be all!" I decided. I pulled the locker key out of my pocket and blew out a sigh; I definitely did not want to go back in the basement. Before I could make up my mind however, the phone rang. I gave the box another glance before crossing the room to pick up the phone.

"Hello?"

"Hi, Sara it's JJ"

I smiled brightly and sat down in Spencer's arm chair, "Hi JJ, how are you?" I asked.

"Great, thanks. I was wondering if you wanted to go meet the team back at the BAU with me. I want to bring Henry," JJ said.

"Sounds great, I'll see you soon," I told her, and went to retrieve my jacket.

A few minutes later JJ parked in front of the apartment building and got out to greet me. I gave her a warm hug and bent down to see Henry asleep in the back of the car. JJ started the car and I sat down in the passenger seat, turning around almost constantly to look at baby Henry. "You're going to get whip-lash if you keep doing that," JJ teased.

"Well it's not my fault you had a practically perfect baby, you can't not look at him. Besides, I'm his god-aunt, it's my job," I explained smugly.

JJ smirked, "God-aunt?"

"Spencer is the god-father, so I'm the god-aunt," I confirmed.

Penelope greeted us eagerly when we got off the elevator, immediately taking Henry from JJ and fawning over him. We went into the conference room where Henry was returned to his mother, and Garcia hurried off to warm up some milk for the baby. JJ stood by the window, rocking her son back and forth and I sat in one of the conference chairs.

Henry was waking up and making little cooing sounds when the team walked into the BAU room. "What are you doing here?" Spencer asked us in surprise.

Emily gasped, "JJ!"

"Garcia said you guys were on your way back tonight, I thought you could use a surprise," JJ explained, showing off her baby. I stood up and greeted Spencer with a hug, before falling in with the group of onlookers.

"I thought I gave you strict orders to get this place out of your head for a while," Hotch said, walking into the room behind the team.

"My bad," Garcia said, returning with the bottle, "I couldn't help myself. Here, I heated it up," she said, handing the bottle to JJ.

"I just realized that with all we do and see in this room, I never smiled. I wanted at least one good memory to hold onto," JJ said.

"Excuse me kids," Morgan said softly, pushing past me and Spencer. "Um, JJ, can I?" he asked, gesturing towards Henry.

"Of course," she told him, handing him the baby.

"Watch Derek, you've got to keep his head up," I instructed.

"Careful, careful," Emily whispered.

"I've got it," Morgan assured us, cradling Henry.

"No, no, no you don't have it, you're smothering him," Penelope said nervously.

"Look, look, what's he doing? He is smiling at Derek Morgan," he said proudly, turning to show us.

"Gas," Emily and Garcia said in unison.

"Give me that," he said, taking the bottle from Garcia. "Hey little man," Derek whispered, rocking the baby gently. He and Rossi looked absolutely thrilled, and I remembered that they hadn't seen Henry since they visited JJ in the hospital a few days after he was born.

"You're smiling," JJ told Hotch, the usually stern face was indeed turned into a happy smile.

He glanced at her, "Gas." Derek looked up at the group happily as Henry continued to coo. "We miss you," Hotch said to JJ. I smiled happily at the scene. Spencer stood next to Morgan, smiling down at his god-son.

"You want a turn Emily?" Morgan asked, hesitant to give up his possession of the baby.

"Of course," she laughed, taking Henry in her arms. "Hey buddy," Emily greeted Henry, smiling down at him. I thought it looked right, Emily with a baby. I hoped she'd find someone eventually.

After about a half hour of passing Henry around, everyone decided to go home. Spencer and I drove back to the apartment; as soon as we were inside I remembered my task from earlier. "Spencer, where are all of your Christmas decorations?" I demanded, pointing at the box in the center of the living room floor.

"Right there," Spencer said, "How'd you get into my storage locker?"

I shook my head, "Not important, what is important is that we get some actual decorations."

Spencer sighed and plopped down in his armchair, "Fine, we'll go this weekend," he conceded, obviously too tired to argue with me. I set the snow globe on the coffee table and curled up in my chair.


	43. Chapter 43

"Why not green ones?"

"Because red and green are stereotypical of Christmas."

"But silver and gold aren't?"

"Well, they are, just less." Spencer begrudgingly set down the container of green Christmas tree ornaments and pushed our cart down the aisle. "How about red and gold?" I asked, picking up two more containers.

"Yeah, I guess those would be alright," he said and put them in the cart for me.

"I'm going to ignore your lack of enthusiasm for my color choices by explaining that now we can have a Gryffindor Christmas," I smiled, "Please tell me you know what a Gryffindor is."

"Yes, yes I know what a Gryffindor is... just don't ask me what a Hufflepuff is."

Our cart contained a four-foot tall white Christmas tree, since green would clash horribly with the walls and we couldn't possibly fit a bigger tree into the apartment, and two packages of red and gold ornaments. "Candy canes," I stated, taking the cart from my brother.

"Did you know that the candy cane-"

"No," I broke in. As much as the ramblings of Doctor Reid amused me, I honestly didn't care about the origin or manufacturing process of candy canes. Spencer stuck his tongue out and grabbed two boxes of candy canes off the shelf. "We need tinsel," I decided.

"Why? The ornaments are already shiny," Spencer said, seeming confused by the amount of decorations we were buying.

"Because it's pretty," I explained shortly.

"What about stockings? We don't have stockings," Spencer suggested.

"Good, you go get some, I'll get tinsel," I instructed. Spencer sped off eagerly to another area of the store as I sorted through bags of tinsel. Spencer returned a few minutes later carrying two stockings, "Really?" I asked skeptically, eyeing his choices.

"What's wrong with them?" he asked indignantly.

"They don't match. At all," I pointed out. One of the stockings was red and patterned with bright yellow stars, while the other was blue and featured a large reindeer.

"Oh course they don't match, they're essentially giant socks," Spencer said.

"And you never match your socks," I concluded, taking the stockings and placing them in the cart. "Do you think we have enough?" I asked, examining the contents of our cart.

"No, no, look over there!" Spencer said enthusiastically, tugging me towards more tree decorations.

We carted our new Christmas decorations to the apartment, using the elevator, which was exciting. There was a large rectangular package leaning against the door when we arrived. I balanced my shopping bags on one arm and picked up the box, '_An Early Present for the Reid's –Morgan' _the tag read. Spencer opened the door and we carried everything inside. I deposited my bags on the kitchen counter and examined the box, "That was nice of him, pending what's inside," I remarked. Spencer nodded and picked up the little tree.

He started wandering around the living area aimlessly with it, looking lost. "Want some help there Doc?" I called, watching him in amusement.

"No, no I can do it," he said, waving me away with his free hand. "There!" he declared triumphantly, depositing the tree in front of the bookcase next to the television.

I nodded and gave him a slow clap, "Right, want to put the lights on it? I have to put hangers on the ornaments."

After an hour of decorating our tiny tree and belting out Christmas carols, terribly I might add, Spencer and I sat down to open our gift from Morgan. I tore off the colorful wrappings and uncovered a miniature train set. "Cool… Trains," Spencer said, sounding skeptical. I rolled my eyes and dragged him into the living room carrying the box.

I sat down cross-legged on the ground and gestured for Spencer to join me. I put the box between us and started taking parts out, "Right, we're going to put this together and set it up under the tree, ok?" Spencer nodded and picked up the instructions. He looked at them for about a minute before setting it down and began assembling the tracks. I smiled and asked, "Would it be more fun if you told me stuff about trains?"

"Yes, thank you. An average freight train weighs between 10,000 and 12,000 or more tons…"

"…There was initial resistance from pure-blood families against using a Muggle-built device for wizard transportation until the Ministry decreed that students would arrive to school on the train or not attend at all." Spencer had talked about trains for a full hour as we lay on our stomachs watching the little train zoom around its tracks beneath our tree. Every time it passed by us we would drop a piece of popcorn into one of the empty carriages.

"Speaking of muggles, I think it's a Harry Potter Weekend," I interrupted, getting up and turning on ABC Family.

Spencer reluctantly got up from his spot in front of the train and joined me on the couch. "If you don't mind me asking Spencer, but all the Christmas stuff seemed really foreign to you… why?" I asked hesitantly. He sighed and ran a hand over his hair; it was shorter now than it had been a few months ago.

"A lot of the time my mother doesn't know what day it is, so sometimes with Christmas..." Spencer trailed off.

I looked at him sadly and gave him a hug, "I get it, that sucks Spencer, it really, really does. I'm sorry," I said, trying to be comforting.

"It's not a big deal; it's just why I'm not used to all _this,"_ he said, gesturing encompassing to the room which was now strewn with glitter, tinsel and left over tree ornaments.

"So what do you normally do for Christmas then?"

"Nothing really," Spencer said, still watching the little train through the corner of his eye.

"Are you kidding?"

His eyebrows moved together, "No. Why?" "Why, dear brother, because I am going to fix that!" I cried, jumping up from the couch and picking up the phone, "Emily, hey it's Sara, do you have plans for Christmas Eve…"


	44. Chapter 44

'Christmas Eve at The Reid's'

"Merry Christmas, Princess!" Rossi greeted, wrapping me in a bear hug as soon as I opened the apartment door.

"Merry Christmas Dave," I replied, readjusting my Santa hat.

Rossi headed into the living area ahead of me, "Merry Christmas everyone!" he called.

"Merry Christmas Rossi!" Everyone greeted him. Spencer was carrying a tray of cut-outs into the living room where Morgan and Garcia were snuggled in together on the couch watching a Christmas special, a huge bowl of popcorn between them.

Spencer set the cookies on the coffee table, the action accompanied by a small tinkling sound. I'd decided that he should wear something festive as well, so he was wearing a reindeer-antler headband, covered in tiny jingle bells. There was another knock at the door and I went to answer it, "Happy Christmas Emily," I said, letting her inside.

"Hi, Merry Christmas," she greeted me cheerfully. She was wearing a black dress and a piece of red garland around her neck. "And here you go," she said, handing me two large wrapped packages, "And those are for in the morning," she warned me, giving me a stern look.

I rolled my eyes, "Yes Mum." She slapped me on the arm and went into the kitchen to hug Spencer.

I returned to the living room and sat down in my little gray chair, propping me feet up on the table, "Penelope, did you hear from JJ?" I asked.

"Why yes I did, mon ami, she sends her thanks for that adorable hat you gave Henry," she answered, simultaneously feeding a piece of popcorn to Derek. Spencer sat down on the floor next to my chair.

"So do you have any big plans for the rest of your vacation?" Emily asked me, taking a seat next to Penelope on the couch, "Maybe with those darling friends of yours?"

I smiled mischievously, "Well, I did want to have Ellen, Ali or Katie around, but Spencer and I quote, 'ban them' from 'his' apartment."

The agents laughed, remembering the sleepover pictures of November, "Aw, who's no fun?" Garcia asked, throwing some popcorn at Spencer.

"Yeah Spence!" I added, reaching behind my chair into a bucket. I opened my hand above his head and a fistful of glitter fell into his hair.

"Quit it!" he yelled, trying to brush the glitter off of his head.

"Would you believe that's the second time I've gotten him today?" I asked to group.

"Absolutely," said Prentiss, choking back a laugh.

"Glasses, if I ever tried that at my Mama's house I'd have been dead yesterday!" Morgan laughed.

My smile vanished immediately and I looked away from the group. They continued chatting and laughing among themselves, apparently not noticing me. "Why don't we step outside for a minute?" Rossi asked quietly, standing at my shoulder. I nodded and followed him into the hall.

I shut the door behind me and leaned against the wall. "So what's that sad face all about?" Rossi asked, leaning against the wall opposite me. I stared down at the floor, "About your Mom?" he asked.

I nodded, "Morgan didn't mean anything by it I know, just that I'd kind of… forgotten."

"And now you feel guilty," Rossi concluded. I nodded again, and looked up to meet his gaze, "Do you need to talk about it? I or anyone in that apartment would be more than willing to listen," Rossi assured me.

I sighed, "I don't want to bring anyone down," I started.

"Then you might want to get it out now," he suggested.

I gave a sad smile, "Alright. It's just that… my Mom was always there, but not really _there_. I mean most of the time she didn't even notice whether or not I was around, maybe she just didn't care, I don't know. So when she died I thought, 'nothing's really different, right?' And I know I shouldn't, but I still miss her sometimes."

Rossi crossed the hall and put a hand on my shoulder, "Listen, you have every right to miss your Mom if you want to, even if that means being sad sometimes," he said gently.

I nodded, "I know," I smiled.

He smiled back, "That's much better. Now let's get back in there."

Rossi led me back into the apartment and everyone looked up from their conversations, "Hey Pixie, you alright?" Penelope asked quietly.

I nodded, "Yeah, thanks."

Rossi returned to his spot in Spencer's chair as Derek stood up from his place on the couch, arms outstretched, "Hey, baby doll, you know I didn't mean anything right? I wasn't thinking when I said…"

I wrapped my arms around the agent, "I know, it's alright. Promise," I smiled up at him. Suddenly there was a knock at the door.

I let go of Morgan and looked at the door, "Who's that?" I asked aloud. Spencer shrugged and got off the floor to answer the door. I squeezed into the spot between Emily and Derek on the couch and waited for Spencer to come back. I was chatting with Emily and could hear voices from the hall. A moment later Spencer returned, flushed and grinning.

"Guys," he said. We looked up and a man in a Santa hat carrying a wrapped gift had followed him down the hall.

Garcia's mouth dropped open, "Oh my gosh."

"No way," Emily whispered in happy surprise.

"Merry Christmas everyone," he greeted stepping out from behind Spencer.

"Gideon?" Morgan asked, standing up.

I smiled up at him, "Hi Jason." The agents and I stood up to greet their old boss with hugs and handshakes. When everyone was over the initial shock of seeing their long-lost friend, they sat again.

Gideon took my chair and glanced around the room, "A bit different from last time I was here," he laughed, pointing to the extensive tinsel and lights, "That's a nice train set," he commented.

"Well you always did prefer trains to the jet," Emily said smiling. Gideon nodded and picked up the gift he'd brought in with him.

He passed it to Spencer, "I know you're probably saving your gifts for the morning, but I was hoping you'd open this one now," he said as Spencer took the box.

"Um, sure," Spencer said, tugging at the bow. He pulled off the wrappings and opened the box, "Wow, Gideon," he said, lifting out a dark ivory chess set.

"I was going to mail it to you, but I remembered Miss Reid's kind invitation to visit 'anytime,'" Gideon smiled.

I looked at the happy, smiling faces of my family. I don't think I'd ever seen Spencer more surprised and excited as he and Gideon set up the chess pieces on the coffee table. Penelope and Derek were curled up together on the couch again, and Emily and Dave were deep in conversation. I reached up to touch my face, and at that moment I was thankful Hotch wasn't there to ask if I was crying, I didn't think that saying 'It's just been raining on my face' would cover it this time.


	45. Chapter 45

_Author's note: After ep 4x12_

"This is your fault."

"Quiet."

"Entirely your fault."

"Quiet."

"Completely, utterly, and entirely your fault."

"I thought I said quiet," I glared at Spencer over my knees. I was crouched in the corner of our apartment building's elevator, my knees drawn to my chest. One of the few times I'd convinced Spencer that the elevator was safe it had gotten stuck. Spencer was stationed against the elevator wall opposite me, we'd been arguing like this for the past twenty minutes.

"There are six elevator related deaths per year and 10,000 injuries that require hospitalization." "And more than 60% of those deaths are the result of trying to escape from a trapped elevator, which we're not doing," I snapped. "Then what do you suggest we do?" Spencer asked, resting his chin in his palm. I removed my glasses and rubbed my eyes, "Well, unless you can pry that door open, we'll have to sit here and wait, what time is it?"

Spencer looked down at his watch which he always wore over his sleeve, "Twelve thirty," he said. "Alright, the maintenance guy takes his break just before noon, and comes back an hour and a half later. That means it will be-" "An hour. We're stuck here for an hour," he sighed, resting his head against the wall. "Fantastic," I muttered, dropping my chin to my knees.

After a few moments of quiet other than Spencer drumming his fingers on the elevator floor, I looked up, "So, are you dating anybody?" Spencer's head shot up, and he looked at me in surprise and embarrassment, "What? No, why would you ask that?" he asked quickly. I shrugged, "Just wondering. I mean, you and that bartender girl from Atlanta," I said. Spencer blushed deeply and I smirked at him.

"Well what about you?" he asked, his legs sliding out from under him so his feet were against the opposite wall. "What about me?" I asked. He shrugged, "Are you dating anyone?" "No," I said quickly. "What about that one guy, Alex?" he asked, arching his eyebrows. "Him? Oh that's nothing, we're just friends." "Right," Spencer said slowly. I rolled my eyes, "Don't profile me Reid." "I'm not profiling, I'm just making an observation that he texts you quite a bit..." "Spencer!" I cried.

He snorted and glanced at his watch again, "So how are those… friends of yours?" he asked, a tone obvious distaste in his voice. "Who? Ellen, Ali and Katie?" I asked innocently. He nodded, I grinned, "Well, they ask about you weekly," I said laughing. Spencer covered his face with his hands, "They are never coming to our apartment ever again!" he moaned from behind his hands. "They've been asking for tours of the FBI, they want to see Morgan again. They've also become fairly interested in seeing Hotch," I joked, watching Spencer uncover his face. We both fell into fits of laughter, envisioning SSA Aaron Hotchner dealing with three teenage girls.

"Speaking of Hotch, he asked me if I could watch Jack for him this weekend," I said, running a hand over my hair. "Oh, alright," Spencer nodded. "He said he'd try to get me a pass for the FBI firing range as long as I take someone with me-" Suddenly there was a loud knocking coming from the elevator door; I could hear someone calling through. Spencer and I jumped to our feet, he hit the call button.

A moment later the doors slid open slowly, making a loud scraping sound, we were at the opening to the third floor, the elevator slightly lower than the opening. "Are you two alright?" The elderly maintenance man asked, "Watch your step young lady," he instructed, helping me over the stoop created by the floor. "Fine, thanks," I said as Spencer stepped out behind me.

"Sorry about that folks, I'll get that fixed as soon as I can. I came back from lunch early and was doing my rounds when I see the outer door's half-open and the elevator sitting partly beneath the floor," the man explained. "Yeah, no problem, thanks," Spencer said stretching. "Sorry again," the man apologized as he hobbled to the stairs. I smiled after him and walked to the apartment door.

Spencer unlocked it and let me inside. "Well that was fun," I announced, sitting down heavily in my chair. "Fun? You thought that was fun?" Spencer asked, his voice going up an octave. I rolled my eyes, "Spencer, it's sarcasm. Another one of those thing's we'll have to work on, like jokes," I explained, putting my footrest up, Spencer sat down in his armchair. "Oh, speaking of jokes," I blurted excitedly, "An FBI agent and his sister get into an elevator..." I began, just as Spencer hurled a large pillow at my face.


	46. Chapter 46

_Author's note: After 4x13 Bloodline, using prompts from 'Guest' and 'Criminalmindslove69' I had actually considered using this idea before and I finally figured out a way for it to happen. Thanks for the reviews! They are very appreciated!_

It was Saturday morning; Spencer had just dropped me off at Hotch's apartment. I knocked on the door and heard small footsteps; a little boy in pajamas opened the door, followed by Hotch. "Hi," I greeted them.

"Hi Sara, please come in," Hotch said, picking up the little boy.

I followed them into the living room and Hotch set the boy down, "Jack can you say hello to Sara?" he asked.

Jack waved at me, "Hi Sara."

"Hi Jack," I smiled.

"Go get dressed," he told Jack, who hurried off into another room, Hotch smiled after him.

"He's sweet," I said.

"Thanks," said Hotch, turning to me. "I really appreciate this Sara, I'm going to visit a friend from college who lives in Gainesville and Hayley already had plans with her sister," he explained, walking into the kitchen.

"It's no trouble Hotch, really," I said following him.

"Alright, he hasn't had breakfast yet so there's cereal in the cabinet and milk in the fridge. Help yourself to anything," he said, showing me which cabinets contained what. "He slept in today so he won't need a nap, don't let him watch cartoons all day, and he'll show you where his toys are. He can have a snack at 3," Hotch began listing. I fought back a smile and nodded. "And I should be back at around 4:30, so don't worry about dinner," he continued.

Jack returned, now dressed and ran over to his Dad. Hotch lifted him up and gave him a hug, "You'll be good for Sara, right Jack?"

"Right Daddy," Jack said.

I let out a quiet "Aww," and immediately clapped a hand over my mouth; Hotch gave me a stern look and set down his son.

"Bye guys," he said, and shut the door behind him.

Jack looked up at me expectantly, "What do you want for breakfast Jack?" I asked him.

He smiled mischievously, "Ice-cream," he said.

I glanced at the door, "Alright, just a little."

-Meanwhile-

Doctor Spencer Reid had returned to his apartment after dropping his sister off for a day of babysitting. He had been looking forward to some peace and quiet, no loud music or irritating reality TV. He shut the door behind him and poured himself a cup of coffee, adding extra sugar. He sat down in his arm-chair and sipped from his mug, looking at the chair usually occupied by his teenage sister Sara. He sat like this in the silence for more than half an hour, sipping at his drink until he realized there was no coffee left in the mug.

Doctor Spencer Reid was bored. In the past eight months he had rarely been at home alone. Spencer deposited his cup in the sink and started walking aimlessly through the apartment. He tried to recall what he used to do at home for the two years, three months and sixteen days before Sara had moved in with him, but nothing interesting came to mind. Eventually he was stopped at the doorway of Sara's room. He stepped inside and looked around. The formerly white and sparsely filled room had been completely altered. The walls had been covered with newspaper clippings of the team's cases, pictures from National Geographic magazines, photos taken over the past few months and drawings.

There were now two almost entirely filled bookcases, featuring the Harry Potter series, thick anatomy and psychology books, the works of Jane Austen, C.S. Lewis, John Green and Louisa May Alcott among others. Spencer stepped over to the bedside table and hit the 'play' button on the iPod docking station, the song 'An Awful Lot of Running' by Chameleon Circuit, which he recalled Sara talking about frequently, filled the room.

Spencer sat down at Sara's desk chair and glanced over the papers scattered around. There were some 'The Amazing Spider Man' comics, a drawing depicting Hotch as the Terminator- that made Spencer laugh to himself, and a few school notebooks. One of the notebooks was left open and he looked down at the page, reading every word of the first two paragraphs in seconds:

'_Spencer and I were trapped in the elevator today- that was fun. If being told that being trapped in the elevator was your fault for a half hour is fun. I asked Spencer about that bartender lady from Atlanta, the one who almost got murdered, I think her name is Austin or something. Anyways, I asked Spencer if he'd heard from her and he said no. I should have known, when Morgan described her for me he didn't mention long blonde hair. _

_For a profiler, Spencer hasn't seemed to realize that he, just like all guys, have a type. Lila Archer is tall, thin and has long blonde hair. I'm sure Spence used to have at least a tiny crush on JJ, and she's tall, thin and has long blonde hair. Speaking of types, apparently Alex's type is girls who make complete idiots of themselves trying to impress him, aka not me. The girls he likes seem to be the horribly mean and irritating people that my friends and I refer to as the 'Cho Chang's or Lavender Brown's' in the world of HP. I hate him so much, he could do so much better than any of those pathetic girls._

Spencer looked away from the notebook quickly; this clearly was not a school notebook. More likely scenario was that it was Sara's personal journal. He was suddenly nervous; this was a massive invasion of privacy… yet so interesting. 'This is what big brothers do, isn't it?' the agent thought to himself, and returned to the notebook as the song 'Teenagers' began to play.

-Meanwhile-

"Alright Jack, what do you want to do now?" I asked the little boy, cleaning up any evidence of the sundaes we'd had for breakfast.

"Cartoons!" the boy cheered, running into the living room.

"Ok, let's see what we have to watch," I said, setting Jack on the couch beside me and turning the television on. "How about Spider-Man?" I asked him. He nodded eagerly and was soon absorbed in the children's program. I quickly decided that cartoon Spider-Man was nowhere near as cool as the original Spider-Man I had grown accustomed to, forget the movie franchise completely. I much preferred Betty Brant to Mary Jane anyways. I pulled Bram Stoker's 'Dracula' out of my bag and started reading.

-M-

'_Alex is always so sweet, and nice and funny. He says I'm one of his best friends, which is fantastic and hopeless at the same time. I honestly don't want anything to do with him, but I get so angry at those girls like Crystal and Nina when they fawn over him. I'd like to see them get a scholarship to a private high school with their grades…' _Spencer laughed to himself again and turned the page.

'_I want to grow up- that sounds weird, 'grow up'- to be like Emily things is that no one's ever good enough for her, and it's true, she's just that awesome. She's amazing, smart, and stops serial killers for a living. Who could ever be good enough for her? I thought the same thing about JJ initially, but Will's a really nice guy so I guess he's worthy of her attention,' _Spencer rolled his eyes, Sara was very possessive of the team, it reminded him of Garcia's protectiveness of Morgan.

-M-

Two episodes of Spider Man later, the TV was off and Jack and I were sitting together on the floor working on a puzzle. It was trying my patience at how slowly Jack was putting together his 'half' of the puzzle, and I had to slow down so he could keep up. He was proud of himself though, putting together a thirty-six piece puzzle 'by himself.' I'd basically done the entire thing for him, but it had kept his attention so it was worth it. When we finished the puzzle I carefully picked it up and set it on the kitchen counter so he could show his Daddy later.

"Alright Jack, lunch time, what do you want?" I asked the little boy.

"Ice-cream!" The boy said excitedly.

I smiled and ruffled his hair, "Not this time buddy, how about grilled cheese?" I asked.

The boy pouted, "Alright," he nodded.

"Go wash your hands," I told him as I opened a package of bread.

-M-

_'Today Alex and I were up in the library for study hall, Ali was sick and Ellen had to make up a gym class so it was just us. I couldn't get Spencer's teasing out of my head, so I just sat there staring at my textbook for the better part of ten minutes, until Alex looks up and says "So what do you think of me Sara?"And I look up at him all embarrassed and say, "What do you mean?" and he says "Well, because Crystal keeps trying to talk to me in lab, and it's really weird. Like, I don't even know her really, and she just starts touching my arm…" And I say, "That's really creepy," And he says, "Yeah it was."_

_So then we sit there for a while and finally he asks, "Am I cute or something?" And so I start blushing and say, "How would I know?" Luckily he's working on Spanish, so he's not looking at me and doesn't see it. And I'm thinking 'don't make a fool of yourself!' So I say "Why do you ask?" and he says "Well that's what my Mom said, that's why Crystal keeps talking to me, so I think that she likes me or something, what do you think?" So I sit there for a minute or two, wondering what I'm supposed to say when Alex asks, "Do you think I should ask her out?" And then I stabbed my textbook.'_

_' So I'm sitting there across from this total idiot who has to be so cute and nice and smart and funny thinking 'NO YOU IDIOT!' but instead I say, "Well do you even like her?" and Alex shrugs. So we don't talk about it anymore. Curse you Crystal. Curse you Alex Fletcher…'_ Spencer felt a pang of sympathy for his little sister; it reminded him of his days in high school, never being noticed by any of the girls he thought were pretty. Of course he was twelve at the time. But clearly this Alex Fletcher guy was nowhere near good enough for _his _Sara, obviously.

-M-

After lunch, Jack was getting restless. "Want to play a game Jack?" I asked. He nodded eagerly and got up from his chair. "It's called… Catch the Bad Guys, do you want to play" The little boy's eyes brightened. "Ok, I need you to go get one of your toys," I instructed. Jack ran off and returned quickly with one of his action figures. "Alright, he can be the Bad Guy," I said, taking the toy from Jack. "You and I are going to be FBI agents and find him while he hides," I explained. "You close your eyes while he hides," I explained. Jack covered his eyes and I quietly snuck out of the room. I hid the toy under Jack's bed, and then pulled out my wallet. I stuck a dollar bill under the action figure and then pulled out a few pennies.

I walked back to the living room, hiding a penny in an obvious place along the way. When I returned Jack uncovered his eyes. "Ok, the Bad Guy robbed a bank, and we have to find him and his money as fast as we can," I told the excited little kid. I pulled out my phone and started the on-screen stopwatch. "Alright, let's go find him!"

-M-

Spencer set the journal down and turned it back to the page it had been opened to. He spun around in the desk chair, thinking to himself. He wanted advice about how to handle this new information. He could ask Morgan… No that was never a good idea. Garcia? No, she'd get mad at him for reading Sara's journal. The same applied to pretty much every member of the team. Spencer let out a groan and got up from the chair, returning to the living room.

-M-

Jack and I played 'Catch the Bad Guy' and drew with crayons for the rest of the afternoon; I let him keep the money he found as a 'reward' for catching the thief. Hotch returned at 4:30 on the dot and Jack ran to meet him at the door, carrying one of his drawings. "Hey buddy!" Hotch greeted him, scooping him up.

"Look Daddy," he said, showing him the picture. "It's me and Sara," Jack said proudly.

"Wow, that's really good, it's going up on the fridge," he told his son.

"So did you have a good time with Sara?"

"Yeah," Jack nodded.

"Sara, do you want a ride home?" Hotch asked me as he pinned the drawing to the refrigerator door.

"No, that's ok," I assured him.

He smiled, "Alright, and I'll have that firing-range pass for you on Monday."

"Bye Jack," I said, giving the little boy a hug.

"Bye, will you come to play again?" he asked me.

I smiled, "Sure," I promised. I left the Hotchner apartment and went down to the bus stop, tired and ready to be home.

"Spencer?" I called, opening the apartment door, "I'm back."

Spencer smiled and got up from his chair, "Hi!" he greeted, practically skipping into the kitchen, "How was your day?" he asked.

"Really fun, Jack Hotchner is so adorable," I gushed, "What did you do all day?" I asked my brother.

He shrugged and I saw his face redden slightly, "You know, just a bit of light reading."

I arched an eyebrow, "While listening to Chameleon Circuit?" I asked. I could hear the song 'Exterminate, Regenerate' coming from my room very clearly.

Spencer looked nervous, his face still red, "Yes…"


	47. Chapter 47

_Author's Note: 4x14 Cold Comfort_

Monday morning and I had the day off of school; unfortunately I would still be waking up early for an FBI field trip with big brother. I decided to write a short journal entry about babysitting Henry over the weekend and sat down at my desk. The notebook had been left open like I'd left it, but something was different. There was a light smudging of ink going down the center of the page. I ran my finger down the same spot; it reminded me of what Spencer did when he would speed-read. I flipped through some of the recent pages, looking at each with scrutiny. There was something very strange about this, but I would figure it out later.

"Know your strengths, rely on them. Confidence, real or pretend is your magic ingredient," Garcia read from the newspaper.

"Confidence, yes I like that," her boyfriend, Kevin Lynch exclaimed.

Morgan sat down at the edge of the table, "Come on, you guys don't think there's actually anything to that stuff," he said.

"You'd be surprised," Kevin said.

"Gibberish," Emily said, turning around with a cup of coffee in her hand.

"Thank you," said Morgan.

"You are just jealous because you don't have the magic ingredient," Garcia told Prentiss, looking up from her paper.

"I have the magic ingredient, it's called splenda."

I snorted, "Come on, even I could write that stuff," I said laughing. I shut my eyes and put a finger to my forehead, "Derek, I see hard work and a new love interest in your future, be warned, Jupiter's alignment will greatly interfere with your cooking skills…" I said in an old timey fortune teller's voice.

"Alright skeptics, what are your signs?" Kevin asked.

"No," Prentiss said quickly, taking a sip from her coffee.

"Absolutely not," I agreed.

"No, is that April?" Garcia asked Emily.

Spencer passed us on his way to the coffee machine, "Reid we need DOB's on Pixie and Prentiss," Garcia asked sweetly.

"May 24th 1997, 5:24 am, and 7:12 am October 12th 1970-"

"Hey!" Emily and I both shouted. Spencer looked at us in confusion.

"Ah, Gemini my Pixie. A certain someone has caught your eye and you may not know how to proceed, remember your common sense, it has never failed you before. Caution, someone close to you has betrayed your trust, confront them before they lose your confidence completely," Penelope told me.

I nodded, "Alright, Spencer," I said, his head snapping up, "Did you read my journal?" His face went beat red and he began stuttering out apologies.

I scowled and turned back to the group, "Believe yet?" Kevin asked cockily.

"Nope," I smiled.

Garcia rolled her eyes, "Alright Emily, Libra I should have known, a romantic opportunity may experience a slight hitch thanks to a pesky lunar influence which could have you dipping into a rather chilly mood. If being demonstrative and warm is difficult, neutralize this temporary cold front with a simple but affectionate gesture."

Prentiss dropped her spoon into the coffee mug, "I have a simple gesture," she said, putting up her middle finger.

Morgan and I began laughing; "Hey!" Garcia cried in protest.

"You guys ready to gather?" JJ asked the agents, now entering the room.

"Well, look at you Miss Thing, first day back and all business," Morgan said saluting her.

"Well it's either dive right in or confront my separation anxiety," she said sadly.

"It's tough being away from him, huh?" Garcia asked consolingly.

"That's new, isn't it?" Emily and I asked in unison. I'd just looked down and there was a ring on JJ's left hand.

Garcia reached for her hand to look at it better, "Yeah, citrine, it's Henry's birthstone. Will and I both got one," JJ said, showing the ring off.

"Aw, that's sweet," Garcia said.

"Speaking of new, I like the haircut!" I told her.

JJ smiled, "Thanks, it's a lot easier to take care of this way. I need all the time I can get now with Henry."

"Hey, I'd be more than happy to babysit for you if you ever need it. That is, if I can trust my brother to not read my personal journal," I said, turning to glare at Spencer, who was immediately red in the face again.

"You read her diary?" JJ asked him. Spencer grimaced and sped towards the conference room.

"I'll deal with him later, Glasses," Derek assured me. Emily, Penelope and JJ nodded in agreement.

Hotch walked by the group looking at a case file, "Deal with what?" he asked, "Oh, here's your firing range ID, Jack really enjoyed you babysitting," he added.

"Deal with Reid, he read Sara's journal," Prentiss explained.

Hotch gave a more intense version of his usual stern look, "That seems a bit uncalled for, consider she's not dead or kidnapped," he deadpanned, and headed into the conference room.

"Garcia, are you done with this?" JJ asked, pointing to the newspaper.

"Yep."

"Thank you," she said, taking the paper and following Hotch. Emily gave me a pat on the shoulder and followed as well.

Garcia and Kevin looked at me expectantly, "What?" I asked them.

"I see those gears turning Pixie; do you want help plotting revenge?" Garcia asked, Kevin nodding in agreement.

I drummed my fingers against the table top, "No thanks guys, I've got it all covered," I said, and hurried out of the building.

I got off the bus on Main Street and went into the grocery store that Spencer and I frequented. I already had a three-phase plan of revenge brewing, I just needed supplies. I picked up a basket and sped through the aisles, in search of WSD's: Weapons of Spencer's Destruction. I picked up a bag of hard candies, about 10 rolls of plastic wrap, and a large container of hot sauce. I'm completely certain I scared the girl at the cash register half to death with the look I was wearing, completely villainous. I was going to get Spencer Reid, oh yes, he was definitely going to pay...


	48. Chapter 48

This is a chapter called Revenge...

Revenge is a fantastic feeling, it makes you feel giddy and warm inside, so much that I literally skipped all the way home swinging my grocery bags and humming loudly. When I arrived home I immediately dumped out all of my supplies, choosing to use the plastic wrap first.

I took the roll out of one of the boxes and sat down at Spencer's desk in the hallway. He would sit there every day he was home to write a letter to his mother, Diana. There was a deck of cards, some loose papers, pens, pencils, a lamp and two empty coffee mugs. I held the edge of the plastic wrap to the underside of the desk and started wrapping. The desk was impenetrable; I covered everything on top of the desk and the drawers. I picked up some more rolls and repeated the process with Spencer's chair, Spencer's bedside table and Spencer's dresser. Everything that he used on a daily basis (that wouldn't affect me) was wrapped.

I ran out of plastic wrap pretty quickly, so I had to go back to the store. I loaded my basket with boxes of plastic wrap and went to the checkout, the same girl from earlier was working. She was chewing her gum loudly and gave me an amused look.

"Pranking someone?"

"Yep."

"Who?"

"My brother"

"What'd he do?"

"Read my journal."

"That's serious, how old?"

"Twenty-eight."

The girl looked confused but didn't say anything else. I hurried back to the apartment, a much bigger plan already forming. I wrapped Spencer's bed, each layer of sheets individually. I then went into the living area and wrapped the entire media center and then the refrigerator. I pulled out my phone and called Garcia, "Can I stay at your place until the team gets back?"

"Sure, what for?"

"I'm revenging."

I dumped out half the bag of hard candies and put them in a small plastic container. I left my half of the candy in the bathroom and the hot sauce by the coffee maker, grabbed my remaining rolls of plastic wrap and got on the bus. When I got back to the FBI headquarters I ran straight to Penelope's lair to drop of my bags for the stay at her apartment.

I quickly located the desk of Derek Morgan, and put the candies and plastic wrap in his drawer. I sat down in Spencer's desk chair and set a mass text to the team, other than Spencer.

'_Revenging has begun. Supplies Derek's desk. Call for details.'_

Two days later school was dismissed and there was a message on my phone from Garcia, "The team's getting back late this evening, you need to finish phase 2!" I went to get my stuff from her apartment, took a shower, ate dinner and hurried home to complete phase 2.

Spencer would be home within the hour. I went into the bathroom and unscrewed the shower head, and then crammed as much hard candy into the pipe and shower head as possible without obstructing the flow. I ran into his room and left a note on the foot of his bed 'From your friendly neighborhood Spider Man.' Finally I ran into the kitchen and hid the hot sauce. I heard Spencer unlocking the front door, and flew to my room and pretended to be asleep.

I heard Spencer walking around the apartment and muttering to himself. He opened my bedroom door and leaned against the doorway. "Ha ha, very funny little girl. But if that's the best you can do, you've got a whole lot to learn," he said. He shut the door and I heard him tearing the plastic off of his bed.

I smiled to myself, "phase one complete," I whispered.

The next morning I woke up and could hear the water running in the shower. I smiled evilly, "Phase two in progress," I said, and hurried into the kitchen, clutching a piece of paper. I pulled out the hot sauce and dumped some into the coffee maker. I pulled out the tape dispenser and taped the note to the inside lid of the machine, 'From your friendly neighborhood Spider Man.' I ran back to my room and got dressed, then sat down in the kitchen and waited.

Spencer walked out of the bathroom fully dressed and looking very uncomfortable. His hair was plastered to his head, tangled and sticking out at odd angles. He glared at me and walked over to the coffee maker, "Clever Sara, very clever," he murmured.

"What's wrong Spencer?" I asked innocently.

"Nothing, just that someone did something to the shower, now I'm all sticky," he said sarcastically. He poured himself a cup of coffee and took a large gulp. His eyes went wide and he spit it out in the sink, turned the faucet on and swallowed about a gallon of water before looking up. He opened the coffee maker lid to inspect the inside and found the note. I ran for the door and all the way to the bus stop, laughing wildly.

"PHASE TWO COMPLETE!" I shouted.

-Meanwhile-

A sticky, tired, grumpy Doctor Spencer Reid arrived at the BAU. "I like the new look," Morgan laughed.

Prentiss walked over to the irritated boy genius, "What is all over you?" she asked, poking him in the face.

"Pure evil," he muttered.

SSA Hotchner walked past the group, "Reid," he said simply, "Your hair?"

"I know, I know!" he yelled, sounding exasperated. Hotch raised an eyebrow, "Sorry sir," Spencer said.

"You know you can go use the showers downstairs," Hotch suggested.

Spencer nodded, "Alright."

He stepped over to the coffee maker, glad that this pot didn't make his eyes water. He finished his mug and headed downstairs to the showers. One of the stalls had an 'Out of Order' sign, so he used the second, completely oblivious to the fact that a Kevin Lynch had tampered with the shower head just minutes earlier.

"Ok guys, hurry up!" Penelope commanded the team via speaker phone. She was monitoring the shower room door from her lair, ready to alert the team when Spencer left. "Now Kevin," she told her boyfriend, who opened the door to the shower room and stuck a note to the inside.

The rest of the team was quickly wrapping the young agent's desk and chair in plastic wrap. "Do we know what Sara's IQ is?" Hotch asked, passing a roll to JJ.

"No idea, but I bet she'll give Spence a run for his money some day," she said, impressed by the timing and preparation that had gone into Sara's plan.

"Guys, two minutes. He's on his way out," Garcia warned.

"Done," Emily announced, sticking the last note to the finished product.

"Good work guys, now everyone get out of here," JJ said, hurrying away. Emily, Derek and Hotch followed suit.

Doctor Spencer Reid was in a very bad mood. His hair was dripping wet, and was soaking his shirt. A note from 'your friendly neighborhood spider man' crumpled in his fist. He was stickier than he was before and had no way of drying his hair without large clumps being pulled out. He marched back to the BAU, ready to collapse at his desk and sleep for the rest of the day.

His eyes narrowed when he saw his desk, wrapped in no less than four layers of plastic. He looked around the room, trying to locate his team, but they were nowhere to be found. Something moving caught his eye; he glanced up to see a security camera following his every move. He pointed at it, "Garcia!" he yelled, tearing the plastic off his desk chair. He picked up the note on his desk:

_'Supervisory Special Agent Doctor Spencer Reid,_

_Due to your recent behavior you have been severely punished. Please note that invading the privacy of someone you have to share a home with for at least the next 4 years has dangerous consequences. Never read the journal of a highly intelligent high school student, as we have the tendency to get just a tad upset._

_Heres hoping you enjoyed your dose of revenge._

_Your not-so-friendly neighborhood spider man'_


	49. Chapter 49

_Author's note: 4x15 Zoe's Reprise_

"This is Henry wearing the booties my Mom knitted," JJ said, pointing to yet another picture of the practically perfect baby.

"I can't get over his cuteness!" Garcia gushed.

"Oh, and this is him wearing the customized leather jacket Auntie Penelope got him." I peeked over Derek's shoulder, trying to get a better view.

"When he grows up he's going to be a rebel," Garcia assured. Derek and I laughed, while JJ gave her a nervous look.

"He's going to be the coolest kid ever with a family like ours," I said.

Garcia's phone rang, "Is this David Rossi, the bestselling author David Rossi?" she asked mock-excitedly.

"What are you doing? You're not supposed to be calling when you're on annual leave," Derek reprimanded.

"I think my AL just ended," Rossi sighed.

"What's the matter?" I asked.

"Garcia, Cleveland Police is sending you some files; get JJ to distribute them to the team right away," he instructed.

"What are we looking at?" JJ asked.

"I don't know yet, just see if the team can find a connection with these crimes. I'll call you back in a few hours."

"I hope he's alright," I sighed. Garcia, JJ and Derek collected their things and headed for the BAU room. I followed them while they alerted the team.

A few hours later the team was seated around the circular table in the conference room going through files. Garcia remotely accessed a girl named Zoe Hawkes computer for Rossi. "Check out her homepage," said Garcia, opening the girls internet browser.

"The first thing she see's when she opens her computer is a crime column," said Emily, looking over Garcia's shoulder.

"Can you see what she worked on last?" Rossi asked.

"Walla!" Garcia proclaimed, opening a series of charts and graphs.

"It looks like she was compiling imperical data about homicide trends in Cleveland," Spencer noted, leaning over to see the screen. He'd since forgiven me for my masterful pranking, after it was revealed to him that the 'Out of Order' shower stall actually worked. He'd smelled like peppermint for a week, and had decided that I could potentially survive MIT prank wars.

"Do you think she knew the killer?" Prentiss asked Rossi, who was currently in the recently murdered girl's room.

"I don't see any notes indicating potential suspects."

"Well Dave, she's a criminology student, she's been taught to analyze statistics and apply theory, not investigate killers," Hotch reminded him, "Let's talk about what we know."

JJ stood up and picked up her remote, looking down at the case files, "Alright victim one, Travis Bartlet, was last seen at a gay bar, he was shot at night in a park," she said, calling an image of the first victim to the screen. "Victim two, Lily Knicks, a thirty-four year old prostitute, her throat was slashed," this time the image was of the female victim, post-mortem. I shuddered and looked away from the screen.

Hotch glanced up at me, "Sara," he said sternly.

"Gone," I replied, speeding out of the room.

I practically ran to Spencer's desk, my face pale. I wished I'd left before they started the morbid slide show of death. A few minutes later the team flooded out of the room and went to their desks. "Going to Cleveland?" I asked Spencer.

"We think it's a serial killer imitating other serial killers," he said by way of an answer.

I nodded, "That's new. Tell Rossi I said hi," I said as Spencer picked up his go-bag.

"Bye, don't do anything illegal," he warned me, planting a kiss on the top of my head.

"Same goes for you," I laughed as he headed out the doors with the rest of the team.

I went to find Garcia, wondering about the 'don't do anything illegal' comment. I assumed it was one of the things he'd blurt out when he tried to be a 'parental figure.' I sat down in her office and smoothed out my uniform skirt, I had gone to the BAU straight from school. "Hey Pixie, you ok?" Garcia asked me, turning around in her chair.

"Hmm? Yeah I'm fine," I assured her.

"You're pale," she said gently.

"The second victim, Lily Knicks…"

"I know you don't like seeing that stuff sweetie," she said consolingly, taking a seat next to me on my bench.

"No, well yes, but for a second she looked like my Mom. She was lying there; she looked like my Mom did when I turned her over, when I found her."

I'd never told anyone but Spencer that. Not my friends, school counselors, or the rest of the team.

"How long has it been?" she asked quietly, stroking my hair.

"Ten months tomorrow. She died March 21st, around noon the coroner said."

"Does Reid know?"

I shrugged, "Probably, it might have slipped his mind though, with the case and everything. It doesn't matter," I told her standing up, I picked up my backpack, "See you Penelope."

I went home and lay on the couch for the rest of the evening. I felt sick and I wished Spencer would come home. I stayed home the following day, skipping school. I called the guidance office and told them why I wasn't coming, which the counselor said was fine, and told me many times how sorry she was for my loss. Her faked sympathy was not at all helpful and I wanted Spencer to come back now more than ever.

At school the next day my friends inquired about why I was out, I lied and told them I had a twenty-four hour bug or something. I must have seemed pretty depressed, because they were all going out of their way to be nice to me. I appreciated it, but refused to tell them what was wrong. I did my homework on the bus and got off at the FBI.

I crept into Penelope's office and she didn't hear me, she was on the phone with Rossi. "The boy's in the lab found trace amounts of saliva on Zoe's forehead, enough for a DNA sample. We got a match on Eric Ryan Olson, Cleveland native, did two and a half years for attempted sexual assault and was paroled six months ago." I couldn't hear Rossi's response as Penelope had her earpiece in, she pulled up another file, "That's because he was. While he was in the slammer he took independent correspondence classes in forensic science and criminology from an out-of-state school." Garcia informed him before hanging up.

"Is that the guy?" I asked, examining the picture of Eric Olson.

"Let's hope so Pixie," she told me, "I'm getting a search warrant and the rest of the team."

The next day Eric Ryan Olson was in custody, having eventually confessed to the murder of at least eight people. Spencer stopped at Garcia's apartment to pick me up and we stopped in one of the stores on Main Street. "Why'd we stop?" I asked.

"I was wondering if you wanted to go visit your Mom."

I bit my lip and glanced out the car window at the shop we were parked in front of. "Then why are we here?"

"I thought you might want to bring her something, they have flowers bouquets here."

Spencer got out and opened the car door for me and we walked into the store. There were a few bundles of flowers and I looked at each one. Spencer had a good time informing me of the symbolic meanings associated with each type of flower. I chose a few lilies, which were way to expensive considering they'd been grown by a florist and not imported. "Lilies are used in burials as a symbol referring to resurrection or life. They're also associated with stars and the Sun and there are over 110 species in the lily family Liliaceae," he told me approvingly.

We drove for over a half hour until we reached the cemetery. Spencer held my hand as loosely as possible and we found my Mom's grave. I held onto the bouquet tightly and stopped in front of a small grave marker. _'Laura Ryan 1971-2010.' _I laid the lilies in front of the marker, and held tightly to Spencer's hand. I stood there looking at the engraving for a while, not sure what to feel.

Spencer was looking at the grave as well, and after a few moments he cleared his throat, "Um, it's nice to meet you Miss Ryan," he said aloud.

I looked at him questioningly, "What are you doing?"

"Talking to your mother," he said, and turned back to the grave marker. "My… my name is Doctor Spencer Reid; I'm a supervisory special agent from the behavioral analysis unit."

"Why are you telling her that Spencer?" I asked curiously.

He smiled down at me, "So she knows you're well looked after."

I smiled up at him and hugged him around the middle, "Love you Spence," I whispered.

"Love you too."


	50. Chapter 50

_Author's note: After 4x16 Pleasure is my Business, just before 4x17 Demonology _

"Reidikins wake up, we're going shooting today!" I cheered, running into Spencer's room.

He groaned and rolled away from me, "Later."

I perched on the edge of the mattress, "Come on! You know how long I've been looking forward to this?"

"Since you shot that guy in our kitchen," he murmured into his pillow.

"Very funny, now let's go!" I cried, tugging on his arm. I was already fully dressed and had been up for an hour.

"Ten more minutes…"

"No!"

Half an hour later Spencer was showered, dressed and downing his morning coffee. "Ready?" I asked excitedly.

"Yeah hang on," he said, walking to his bedroom. A moment later he returned with his revolver and the Glock 17, "Here," he said, handing me the Glock 17.

"Cool, my own gun," I commented.

"No, no. Not your own gun, you can use this one," he clarified, imitating the look Hotch gives me when trying to keep me out of the conference room.

We arrived at the firearms training facility at Quantico and gave our ID's to the guard who smiled at me, "First time practicing little lady?" he asked politely.

I grinned back, "Not exactly."

He handed us ear muffs and safety goggles and let us into one of the firing areas. "Just press this button to bring those papers closer," he told me. I nodded and he left.

"I was here a few years ago with Hotch before my gun qualifications," Spencer said, looking around the little area. "He told me that on SWAT they broke shots down into three steps, front sight, controlled trigger press and follow through."

"Lots and lots of words Spencer, now do you want to go first or shall I?" I asked eagerly.

Spencer pushed me off to the side, "I believe the expert should go first," he said haughtily. I snorted and let him continue.

I pressed the ear muffs to my head and gave my brother the thumbs up. He aimed and a loud bang went off. I saw his shoulders dip a bit and I hit the button to bring the target closer. "Where you aiming for, his ear?" I asked sarcastically. He glared at me and I stepped away from him, putting my hands up in surrender. He pressed the button again and the target sailed away. He fired a full round and recalled the target sheet. "Not bad," I complimented.

"Let's see you do better _little girl," _he taunted, ruffling my hair.

I got a new civilian target sheet and picked up the Glock 17. I glanced back at Spencer and he gave me thumbs up. I aimed for the circle labeled 5X and fired. I went through a full round and set down my gun. Spencer was still glaring at me and called the target sheet. There were three bullet holes through the target I was aiming for, seven in the area just outside the target and the rest had gone through the outline's left shoulder. Spencer nodded approvingly, "Pretty good."

A red light appeared above us and the door opened. "Miss… Reid? There's a call for you," The guard said, poking his head through the doorway, "Is that yours?" He asked me, pointing to the target sheet. I nodded, "Good job," he said. Spencer picked up the guns and stepped out of the firing area behind me.

The guard handed me the phone, "Hello?"

"Hey Sara, it's JJ."

"Hi, is something wrong?" I asked nervously.

"What? Oh, no. I was just wondering if you'd be willing to babysit Henry for the afternoon."

I bit my lip, "Um, sure JJ, I'll be right there." I returned the phone to the guard and turned to Spencer, "Looks like we're done for the day."

Spencer and I arrived at the Jareau-LaMontagne household and rang the doorbell. Will answered the door, "Reid, Sara, thanks for coming," he greeted, letting us in.

"Sara, Spence is that you?" JJ called from down the hall. Will lead us to the kitchen where JJ was holding a sleepy Henry.

"Hi buddy!" I said, taking the baby from JJ.

"Thanks for coming you guys, we've got a family thing to go to and a lot of people are sick so I didn't want to bring Henry," JJ explained.

"We'll be back later tonight, she left a list of where everything is on the counter," Will said, tugging JJ gently by the arm.

"Oh, well just let me check that everything's written down," JJ protested.

"It's all there," he assured her.

"Alright, bye Henry," she said, waving to the baby.

"He'll be just fine JJ, I promise," I told her. She blew the baby a kiss and allowed herself to be tugged out of the room. I heard the front door shut behind the couple and looked down at Henry, now asleep, "Just you and me today buddy," I told him.

"And me!" Spencer said, offended.

I rolled my eyes, "But he's useless, so pay him no mind," I whispered, carrying Henry into the living room.

I set the baby in his playpen with a blanket and returned to the kitchen where Spencer was seated at the table. "Wait, you're just going to leave him in there by himself?" He asked concernedly, craning his neck to see Henry in the other room.

"Yeah. Spencer he's only like 3 months old, pretty low maintenance," I assured my brother.

"Low maintenance? Henry is completely dependent on us!" Spencer exclaimed.

I sighed, "Well he's sleeping now, if it'd make you feel better why not go read one of those child care books?" I asked, pointing to several paper cover books on the coffee table. I read over JJ's incredibly detailed list and oriented myself with the kitchen while Spencer read a 400 page parenting book (sigh).


	51. Chapter 51

About a half hour after his mother's departure Henry started whimpering in his play pen. "Hey Henry, you're alright," I cooed, picking up the baby. "Spencer, what time did JJ say Henry should get fed?" I called into the kitchen where Spencer was pouring over more parenting books.

"2:30," he answered without looking up. Henry was becoming fussy, I glanced at the wall clock and it was 2:10.

"Spencer, could you heat up a bowl of water and get a bottle out of the fridge?" I asked, bouncing Henry in my arms.

Spencer put a bowl of water in the microwave and warmed it up. "Ok, put the bottle in there for a few minutes and then check it on your wrist," I instructed. I carried Henry into the kitchen, talking to him softly.

"Um, Sara, is this formula or…"

"'Or' is correct." Spencer looked sheepish and handed the bottle to me. I handed Henry over and squirted a little milk onto my wrist. Spencer was still eyeing the bottle questioningly; I rolled my eyes and walked back into the living room with the bottle. He followed me with Henry and sat down on the couch. I handed the bottle over to Spencer who started feeding Henry, who was very pleased with his new acquisition.

A few minutes later Henry spit the bottle out and began cooing happily at Spencer. "You have to burp him now," I informed him from my spot on the ground. I was lying on my stomach inspecting Henry's toys. Spencer positioned Henry over his shoulder, "Wait!"

"What's wrong?" Spencer demanded.

I got up and reentered the kitchen and returned a moment later with a large rag. I draped it over Spencer's shoulder, "That might be a bit useful."

Spencer began patting Henry lightly on the back, muttering "You wouldn't spit up on Uncle Spencer's nice shirt, would you? Of course not, because he's your favorite."

"Oh really?" I asked, pointing at the now moistened rag on Spencer's shoulder. He pulled his head as far away from the rag as he could, and I took Henry back from him. He went to dispose of the rag while Henry and I sat down to play with his toys. I crossed my legs and propped Henry against my stomach so he could have a nice chair on my lap.

'Brother Dearest' returned a few minutes later, rag free, and observed me playing with Henry. "When will he be able to do that by himself?" He inquired, sitting down beside us.

"What do you mean?"

"Sit up on his own."

I looked at him in disbelief, "400 pages and you didn't learn that?"

"No."

"What were you reading then?"

"Early Development: Every Parents Go-To-Guide from Potty Training to Bike Riding."

I tried to suppress the smirk peaking at my lips, "Spencer, does Henry here look old enough for potty training?" I asked gently, "Think before you answer!"

"Probably not."

I turned Henry around so he was facing me, "See Henry! One day your god-father could grow up to be as smart as you!"I said excitedly.

Spencer pouted, "I'm still his favorite," he declared, crossing his arms.

"Alright Mr. Favorite, why don't you change his diaper then? You know, since he so obviously prefers you," I said, handing the baby to my brother. Doctor Reid went red in the face and attempted to hand Henry back to me, muttering excuses about 'not being qualified.'

Henry began crying, "Better hurry there Doctor," I laughed as Spencer carried the baby off down the hall. I stretched out on the couch, hands behind my head, waiting.

A few moments later a loud cry came from down the hall, "What on Earth? That's disgusting! SARA!"Spencer yelled. I grinned and went to save poor Henry.

A few minutes later Henry was clean and changed, Spencer was disgusted and I was thoroughly satisfied. "Now who's his favorite?" I asked cockily.

"I am," he replied determinedly. I lay back down on the couch with Henry and Spencer turned on the TV, "What should we watch Henry? Star Trek? David Tennant's Doctor? How about…"

"Spencer," I interrupted, "I don't think Henry really cares, I think he'd much prefer to look at himself in various mirrors, isn't that right buddy?" I asked the squirming baby. I lay him down on his stomach in front of a small plastic play set with multiple mirrors and various rings dangling from it.

Henry swatted at the rings and looked at the mirrors for a while, drank another bottle of milk and promptly fell asleep. I put the baby back in his playpen and curled up on the couch, "What time is it?" I whispered.

Spencer yawned and looked down at his watch, "Just after 6." Just as he was saying that we heard voices outside and a key in the lock.

"They're back," I mumbled, suppressing a yawn.

A moment later JJ and Will crept into the room, "Hi guys," she greeted us, "Was Henry good for you?"

"Very good," I answered, sitting up, "Especially the part where he gave Doctor Reid even more psychological scarring."

"What happened?" Will asked, sounding amused.

"Spencer tried to change a diaper."

JJ and Will listened intently to the tales of 'Babysitting with The Reid's' over dinner in the family's kitchen. JJ and Will told us about the family gathering they'd gone to, some of Will's cousins, Angela and her son John, who is a year older than I am, had moved nearby recently and they'd gone to the welcoming party. Spencer and I finished dinner and stopped in the living room.

"Bye Henry," Spencer whispered, lightly patting the baby's head.

"See you soon buddy," I said, blowing the sleeping baby a kiss. Will let us out and we started the drive home.

"I'm his favorite," Spencer muttered, turning onto our street.

"Oh Doctor Reid, you have much to learn."


	52. Chapter 52

_Author's note: 4x18 Omnivore... I have so many plans for the Reaper. Anyways, in response to 'Wethetara' yes I do watch charlieissocoollike, avidly, if only he would upload more. _

"Looks like we're going to Boston," JJ announced.

"Have you guys even been invited?" I asked her from my perch on Prentiss's desk.

"Apparently we will be," she sighed. The team scattered to their respective desks or offices to retrieve their go-bags while I headed to Garcia's office.

"Do you know what this is?" I asked her as I shut the lair's door.

"Hotch asked me to find a personal ad from like ten years ago, he said it was The Reaper."

I took my usual seat on the bench against the wall, "The Boston Reaper?" I asked. Garcia nodded, "But it must be a copy cat or something?"

"Hotch doesn't seem to think so."

I exhaled deeply, "So this isn't going to be good," I concluded.

"Far from it my dear," Garcia said sadly.

"Penelope can you get me some information on the Reaper? I want to know what they're getting themselves into." She printed me out some excerpts from 'Night of The Reaper' which I scanned through quickly. "This symbol keeps popping up," I said, pointing to one of the pages, "It's the eye of providence, right?" I said, mostly to myself. "It says that the reason he disappeared was because he died or was arrested, maybe he wants to prove the author wrong?"

"Pixie, as proud as I am of you being a teeny tiny profiler, are you sure you want to hang around this week?" Garcia asked hesitantly.

"Are you kidding? Miss the chance to find out who The Boston Reaper is before the rest of the world? Not a chance Penelope," I told her. "I'll see you tomorrow; we're presenting our projects in computers class and I have to... put the finishing touches on mine."

The following day I took the bus to the BAU. I brought a change of clothes and got dressed in the bathroom before tiptoeing into Garcia's office; she always seemed to be on the phone when I would get there. "He's gone! I mean he's completely off the grid and he's gone," Garcia was saying helplessly.

"How is that possible?" Hotch asked.

"Nine months after his release from the hospital he quit his job, sold his car, closed his bank accounts, canceled his credit cards, cell phone, apartment, everything. He has no paper trail and I can't find him because he's gone," she said, pulling up file after file.

"Do you think it was intentional?" Hotch asked.

"It's more than that; even dead people stay on the grid for decades. Take it from me; to erase yourself like this is extremely difficult. It takes commitment. You'd have to be really dedicated, willing to cut every tie of everything and everyone you've ever known in your entire life. It's like killing yourself. I gotta say, this is impressive."

"Well after what the guy's been through can you blame him? I mean he's the only living person who knows what the reaper looks like and he's still out there," Emily reasoned, sounding sympathetic.

"It doesn't change the fact that we still need to find him," Hotch said.

"I'll keep looking."

"Hurry Garcia, we don't have much time."

Garcia didn't say anything to me, just kept digging through the past of whoever they were looking for. There was a piece of paper on my bench with The Reaper's profile jotted down. I read it over twice (something Spencer rarely did).

_The Reaper fits the profile of an omnivore: a serial killer who does not target a specific victim type. He tends to focus on his younger, female victims with his knife. He is a predator who will kill anyone. His kills are not about his victims, they are about recognition, power and manipulation. The Reaper is extremely disciplined. In everyday life he will be so inflexible that he is unable to keep close relationships or work closely with others. He pays special attention to his younger female victims with weapon of choice being a knife, The Reaper may be a hebephile, someone attracted to adolescent post-pubescents. He may work as someone with authority and access to young adults- teachers, coaches, and anyone who has been charged with sex crimes against teenage girls in the last ten years. _

There was suddenly a heavy feeling in the pit of my stomach, like something bad was going to happen. I was nervous for the team and I desperately wanted them to come home. I sighed and folded the paper, slipping it into my bag. Something terrified me about The Reaper, and I knew that this case would not end well, one way or another.

That night he took seven more lives, and wrote the words 'No Deal' in his victim's blood on the bus windows. Spencer called me when he had a free minute, explaining that Hotch had been offered a deal by The Reaper, and he hadn't taken it.

I was at the BAU well past midnight; a call had come in about Derek. The Reaper had tackled him through a glass window, knocking him out cold. He'd left him a bullet, Derek could have died. The agent he was with had been killed and George Foyet, the Reaper's only surviving victim, was missing. I was starting to nod off when Garcia's phone rang, "Garcia?" Hotch said.

"I'm here," she answered, taking her seat in front of the monitors.

"I want you to look up in Boston city records Kevin Baskin, Miles Holden and William Parker, try the department of education."

Penelope's fingers were flying across her keyboard; I got up and took a seat next to her in another desk chair. "Well played sir, they all work for the department of education, they're all substitute teachers, and they all teach computer science," Garcia confirmed.

"High school?" Hotch asked.

"Garcia?" I asked, pointing to the line beneath William Parker's name.

"Opps scratch that they're not all working for the department of education," she amended.

"They're not?"

"No, William Parker was fired for alleged inappropriate behavior with his female students."

Hotch was silent at the other end of the line, "Colson went to see Foyet. Garcia, I need you to locate Roy Colson's cell phone George Foyet is the Reaper."I held my breath, remembering the interview with Foyet I had read in 'Night of the Reaper." I pushed my chair back from the desk, "Right, triangulating… It's 2333 South Woodlawn," Garcia said.

I was shaking, the thought of my family having been so close to that man- that monster, but they came home safe. George Foyet had been arrested, no one else was hurt. I was ecstatic, and ran to meet the team when they returned. "We got him," Emily told me happily. I inquired about Derek's shoulder, which had been cut up by glass when Foyet tackled him, and sat down with them in the desk area.

I ran off to get a mug of coffee, when I returned the BAU was in a frenzy. "What happened?" I demanded, looking up at the television monitor, Foyet's mug shot and an aerial view of a prison compound were being broadcast.

"He had the schematics?" Hotch asked Spencer, folding a large sheet of paper.

"And now just for Rogan, for every jail, prison and courthouse in Massachusetts."

"And ten years to plan," Rossi said.

The team looked at each other nervously, "They're going to find him, right?" Penelope asked weakly. My hands were tightening into fists, glaring viciously at the photo of Foyet on the screen.

"No they're not," Hotch said coldly.

"He said he'd be more famous than we knew, and he was right," Derek said ominously, his newly bandaged face emotionless.

I grabbed Spencer's wrist, all of my energy draining out of me, "This isn't going to end well," I whispered.


	53. Chapter 53

_Author's note: 4x19 House on Fire, it's a very lacking of Reid episode, so I decided to follow Sara to school, hope you enjoy._

The team was in Royal, Indiana, investigating a series of fires that had already left 36 people dead in a town of 2,000. My alarm went off loudly and I pushed the snooze button, burying my head in pillows. Unfortunately, having Spencer Reid for a brother does not make sleeping through your bus too easy. Pressing the snooze triggered a secondary alarm, which immediately began buzzing more loudly than the first. I groaned and shut off both before rolling out of bed.

I hit the button on my iPod docking station, and was met with Mozart's Sonata for two pianos. I stumbled blindly to the bathroom and splashed some water on my face and combed the knots out of my hair. I pulled it back and braided it loosely before returning to my room across the hall and putting on my uniform. I shut the iPod off and padded down to the kitchen with stockinged feet. I went to pour myself a cup of coffee, noticing the sticky note I'd found yesterday:

'_Sara, it has been pointed out to me recently that only drinking coffee for breakfast is not considered healthy for someone your age. Please eat something, preferably food. –Spencer'_

I rolled my eyes and opened the refrigerator door, holding my coffee in one hand. What did he think I was going to eat? Furniture? I finished my coffee and grabbed an apple from the refrigerator shelf, picked up my backpack and jacket and locked the apartment door behind me.

I ate my apple on the one block walk to my bus stop. I took the standard yellow school bus in the mornings and usually took the public bus to the BAU after school. I passed a row of apartments and arrived at my bus stop just as the bus pulled up. I carefully walked down the narrow pathway in the center of the bus between the rows of seats, pushing past book bags and purses. I took my usual seat near the middle of the bus in one of the last empty seats and pulled out 'Little Women,' I was reading the chapter where Laurie and Amy are in Europe for about the twelfth time, "Excuse me, is this seat taken?" asked a friendly voice with a clear southern accent.

"Sure," I said, glancing up nervously. A tall boy with brown hair and green eyes behind black rectangular framed glasses smiled and sat down next to me.

"Hi, I'm new," he said.

"Hi new guy," I said, shaking his hand.

"I'm John," he introduced.

"Sara. Would you happen to be John LaMontagne?" I asked.

He looked at me in surprise, "Yeah, how'd you know that?"

"I'm Sara Reid, my brother and I are good friends of Will and JJ," I explained, putting the book back in my bag.

"Oh, you must be that genius family JJ was telling us about, I pictured you different." I blushed and glanced out the window.

John LaMontagne told me about the move from Louisiana and that he was a sophomore. I noticed that he had a jaw line similar to Will's. The bus pulled up in front of the high school and walked in, chatting with John. "Guys!" I called after my friends. "John, this is Ellen, Ali and Katie," I introduced, pointing to each in turn.

They each smiled, "Nice to meet you," Ellen said. The first bell rang and I pointed John in the direction of the guidance office. Katie and I hurried upstairs to first period history and sat down next to each other.

"Hey, the new kid's cute don't you think?" She whispered.

"Hmm? Oh yeah, I guess," I said, glancing over at Alex across the room. He was talking to Crystal again. I sighed, the teacher finished roll call and turned on the projector. I took notes for the rest of class, watching Alex and Crystal out of the corner of my eye.

Two classes later I sat down in the sophomore English class. John walked in and the teacher, Mr. Galvano, immediately asked him to introduce himself to the class. He did so and walked to the back where I was sitting, "Is this spot taken?" he asked politely.

I shook my head and pushed my books out of his way. "I was under the impression you were a freshman," John said.

"I am, I'm in some AP classes," I explained.

"Which ones?" he asked interestedly.

"English, obviously, Science and Math. I'm adding History next year," I said quietly.

"Cool, I'm AP science and history," John said.

Mr. Galvano began a long speech about the under appreciation of classic literature by young people today, I drew a caricature of his head exploding from frustration. I heard John laugh quietly as he glanced over my shoulder at it. The bell rang and I gathered up my books, "That's really good, I wouldn't show him though," John whispered, nodding to Mr. Galvano who was downing a soda at his desk. I smirked and walked out of the room with him.

"So have you made any friends?" I asked him, dodging the fast paced juniors in the hallway.

"Including you, one," he laughed, "They all kind of glare at you on the first day, don't they?"

"Yeah I know the feeling. Most of these guys have been together since elementary school." I stopped at my locker and switched out my books, grabbing my lunch bag, "You're more than welcome to sit with us in lunch if you'd like," I smiled, shutting the locker.

"Thank you I will," he said, walking away to his own locker.

I met up with Katie, Ellen, Ali and John in the cafeteria and we showed him our usual seat. The girls went to buy their lunches and I looked through the sea of navy clad freshman and sophomores for Alex. I waved to him across the room but he ignored me, I saw him sit down with Crystal and her friends. I rolled my eyes and sat down across from John. "Is that your boyfriend?" John asked through a bite of his sandwich.

"No, just a friend."

John shrugged, "His loss."

My face went red, "Excuse me?"

He smirked, "Nothing."

The girls returned a moment later with their trays, I immediately snatched some fries from Ellen's plate, and she kicked my chair and sat down beside me. "My Mama packed some extra cookies for me so I could make friends," John laughed, peering into his lunch bag, "Here," he said, handing them out to the four of us. "So what do ya'll do around here for fun?" John asked, crumpling up the brown paper bag.

"Well, Sara shoots things," Ali laughed.

"You hunt?" he asked.

I shook my head, "Just targets."

"And burglars," Ellen added.

The two of them quickly recounted the 'thrilling tale' of my 'heroic' rescue of my 'hot brother' from no less than four armed robbers. I quickly amended the story, still red-faced. "Well now, look who's adventurous," John said when the story was finished.

I rolled my eyes, "It's not on purpose. Meanwhile, this lot pretty much makes up the volleyball team," I said, shoving Ellen playfully.

"Do they have a soccer team here?" John asked.

"Yeah, soccer here is glorified like football is in all America," Katie laughed.

"Our friend Alex is on the team," Ali added.

"You mean him?" John asked, pointing across the room at Alex. The four of us nodded.

The bell rang and John waved goodbye to us as we made our way up to study hall. "He's really nice, how do you know him?" Ellen asked, linking arms with me.

"I heard about him from JJ- Henry's mom- he's her boyfriend's cousin," I explained, refreshing their memories of who JJ was.

"Why didn't Alex sit with us today?" Ali asked.

"I'll give you three guesses," snorted Katie.

At the end of the day the bell rang, releasing us from our prison of knowledge. As usual I used my stack of binders as a buffer to get through the crowded halls. I loaded up my backpack and made my way outside with Ellen, Ali and Katie. I could see a tall dark-haired man in the middle of the sea of students, flocking to busses. "Spencer's here, see you next week ladies," I said, waving goodbye to my friends.

"Hey Reidikins," I greeted. Spencer took my bag and walked me to the car.

"Tough case?" I asked.

He sighed and ran a hand through his hair, "An entire town turned against him," he said vaguely, opening the car door for me. He went around to the other side and got in, "But we got him, it's over. How was your day?" he asked cheerfully.

"You remember Will mentioning his cousin's moving up here?"

"Of course, I have an eidetic memory," he said, starting the car.

I smacked him on the arm, "Anyways, his cousin's son, John LaMontagne, just started school here today."

"Oh. Ok. Is that all?"

"Well, Alex kind of ditched us at lunch."

"For that one girl that you don't like?"

"Yeah her." I told Spencer about the rest of my day, he told me that the normalness of my life helped him compartmentalize, so I guess I'm always happy to be of service.


	54. Chapter 54

_Author's Note: 4x20 Conflicted, also any prompts for light fun chapters are appreciated since I've been working on those dark chapters a lot today, enjoy..._

The beginning of my spring break, it had been a really difficult case for Spencer. He didn't tell me about it, and had been going to visit someone named Amanda, who apparently was the unsub. I was sitting on the couch, the TV was on but I couldn't hear it. I was lost in my mind, waiting.

I heard the deadbolt in the front door slid open and Spencer's footsteps in the hallway, snapping me back into reality. "Hey Spence, how was Amanda?" I asked softly. He didn't answer, he never did. He just ran his hands through his hair and sat down in the armchair. "Spencer, I'm worried about you and I want to know why this is bothering you so much," I said gently, turning slightly to face him. He didn't look up or answer me. "Spencer, please. I want to hear this from you." He looked up now, understanding what I meant. The team knew everything about each other; I could easily ask one of them.

"Do you… know what dissociative personality disorder is?" He asked me, sitting at the edge of the chair.

"Isn't it when it's like more than one mind in a body, like multiple personalities that aren't aware of each other?" Spencer nodded. "What about it?"

"Amanda's real name is Adam, he has this disorder, it appeared after severe abuse he suffered as a child."

I nodded and leaned forward, listening carefully. "I… I need to tell you something important, about something that happened to me a few years ago, and I don't know how you'll react, you just have to promise to listen so you'll understand," he said quietly, looking me in the eyes. I nodded and he moved to the place next to me on the couch.

"When Gideon was still part of the BAU, we were on a case where the murders of several victims were being broadcast over the internet. In one of the videos, dogs were used to kill a woman who was cheating on her husband," I shuddered at the thought and he continued, "The sheriff who had invited us onto the case recognized the dogs, and identified them as having attacked someone previously."

Spencer paused for a moment, looking at me anxiously. I didn't know what he was concerned about, and nodded for him to continue. "JJ and I went to the house of Tobias Hankle and we realized he was the unsub. We split up; I went into the field, JJ into the barn. She was attacked by the dogs, and couldn't come help me…" I felt cold, I didn't like where this was going. "Tobias had multiple personalities, himself, his abusive evangelist father, and the angel Raphael. He had a gun on me, and his Father wanted him to kill me right there." I was breathing harder now, Spencer wasn't meeting my eye anymore.

"Tobias took me to a shed in the middle of a cemetery, to protect me from his father. But his father's personality appeared. He beat me up pretty badly…" Spencer took a hard breath; I was holding my knees to my chest. "Tobias… felt bad for me. He wanted to give me something to help the pain. Do you, do you know what Dilaudid is, Sara?" I shook my head no. "It's a narcotic, a synthetic for morphine. He injected me with it each time his father hurt me. Sara I don't want you to cry," Spencer said gently.

"I'm not crying," I said, my voice trembling. Spencer reached over and wiped my face, and I could feel more tears welling in my eyes. "I'm sorry," I said, blinking hard.

He sighed, "I'm not going to tell you everything. But eventually, on the second day, I had a seizure, I wasn't breathing. Tobias revived me, Sara please don't cry," Spencer begged, tears were now streaming down my face. He pulled me towards him and held me for a minute or two.

I sniffed, "I'm ok."

"Tobias's father decided that I was a sinner, and that I had to die. He took me out into the cemetery and had me start… digging my own grave," I shuddered, more tears falling. "I was able to take his gun and kill him. But before he died, Tobias told me 'you killed him,' and he was so happy."

I took a deep breath to calm myself, "But you didn't want to kill Tobias, you had to kill his father," I said quietly, Spencer's arm still around my shoulders.

He nodded, "That's why I want to help Adam, why I need to help him" he explained.

I'd stopped crying now, and wrapped my brother in a hug, "I'm sorry that happened to you Spence, I'm so sorry," I whispered. I released him and leaned back against the couch, "You're lucky you didn't get an addiction to those drugs," I said, remembering my Mom's struggle when she was alive. Suddenly Spencer looked down at the floor, as though ashamed. "You didn't, did you?" I asked.

"I suffered from withdrawal, and I was addicted to it, yes. But I got help, I stayed clean, I have been for almost two years now," he assured me, looking me in the eyes once more."You're mad at me," he said, paying close attention to my face.

"I don't want to be, but I am. I'm sad and upset, concerned and mad, and I don't know why."

"You lost your Mom to addiction, and realizing that I had the same problem, even a long time ago, triggered that for you. It's ok," Spencer said, putting a hand on my shoulder.

"Thank you, for telling me, Spencer," I said slowly. My head was spinning and I stood up. Spencer stood up as well and wrapped his arms around me.

"I'm ok now Sara, and so are you, you helped me stay clean. Every time I got... cravings, I thought about what it would do to you. I reached my one year mark just after you came." he whispered, rocking me back and forth gently while we stood there.


	55. Chapter 55

_Author's note: Some short exchanges taking place during 4x22 and 4x23, they tie into the story, later I swear_

(1)"Spencer," I called through the bathroom door. "Are you ready?" I called again, pounding on the door with my fist.

"Fine fine, you can come in," he called back, sounding irritated.

I opened the door and covered my eyes, "Ahhhh…. That's disgusting!" I yelled, leaving my eyes shut and my hands fluttering around.

"What's the matter?" he asked curiously, turning away from the mirror.

"You were putting in your contacts!" I whined.

"Well I'm done now, you're safe," he laughed. I peeked between my eyelids, relieved to see that Spencer's finger was out of his eye. "Ommetaphobia," Spencer remarked, smirking at me.

"Pardon?" I asked, sliding past him into the bathroom.

"Irrational fear of eyes."

"I do not have an irrational fear of eyes!" I snapped, taking my toothbrush out of the cabinet.

"Really?" Spencer asked, arching his eyebrows, "So it doesn't freak you out if I do this?" he said, putting his index finger directly in front of his eye.

"Heeyyy…. Don't do that," I blurted, waving my hand frantically again, "I do not have Ommetaphobia," I said stubbornly, beginning to brush my teeth.

"So people touching their eyes don't bother you?" He asked skeptically. I rinsed my mouth out and looked at my brother.

"Yes it bothers me."

"Why?" I couldn't think of an exact answer, so I just glared. "I rest my case," Spencer grinned.

"Timothy Peters!" I blurted.

Spencer backed up to the doorway, "What?"

"When I was in elementary school, Tim Peters used to, like, flip his eyelids up and put rubber bands and stuff behind them," I said, blinking hard at the thought.

"No offense Sara, but that's not exactly a traumatizing event, so I'm going to continue firmly believing that your fear is completely irrational."

(2)'_Hi this is Alex Fletcher, this is a recording, leave a message-BEEP.'_

"Alex you should have been here twenty minutes ago, we're leaving without you," I sighed and hung up the phone, "I don't know where he is, let's just go," I announced to my group of friends. Ali, Katie, Ellen, John and his friend Andrew were all packed into the apartment's front hall way, since Spencer had 'banned' them. "Spence, we're leaving!" I called into the living room.

My brother appeared quickly, "You'll be back at six?" He asked.

"Most likely," I said, picking up my bag.

"Nice meeting you two," he said to John and Andrew.

"Nice to meet you, sir," John smiled, we'd become friends very quickly.

"…Nice to see you again girls," he said, looking at the three skeptically. They giggled and waved playfully. "Right… so see you later," Spencer said to me as I nudged my friends out of the apartment.

We decided to see one of the new horror films, and while Ali, Katie, Ellen and Andrew seemed thoroughly freaked out, John and I were suppressing laughter at the horrible effects. By the (very predictable) end of the movie, the latter four of the group were shaking and we headed out into the hotel lobby.

The six of us crowded around one of the small two-person tables, dragging chairs over from the surrounding tables. "Guys," Ellen said quietly, nudging me and Ali in the arms, "Isn't that Alex?"

We turned and looked at the hallway entrance; sure enough Alex was walking out of a theatre with his arm around a girl none of us recognized. "He told me the other day that he was seeing that one girl ya'll don't like," John muttered. We watched the pair exit through the lobby doors, seemingly not noticing us.

"Some friend," Andrew said. I glared at the doors where they'd been.

(3)I sat down in the beauty chair and adjusted my smock, "So what are we doing today?" The bleach blonde hairstylist asked. I glanced over at Emily who was sitting in the chair next to me; she'd taken me to her hair stylist.

"I think you should give her more texture, she has really nice wavy hair under the top layer," said Emily, reaching over to move some of my hair, which reached just past my shoulders.

"Oh I love that," the hair dresser gushed, "And such a nice color, I think we'll frame the face, maybe some layers? Hows that sound hun?" she asked, leaning over my shoulder so she could see herself in the mirror. I scrutinized myself in the mirror, took off my glasses and nodded.

"Alright I guess." Whenever Mom used to take me for haircuts it was a trim and maybe bangs occasionally, that was all. Spencer's barber continuously insisted I try a pixie cut, and when Emily had gotten wind of it she'd come to my rescue.

The continual snipping sound and sight of hair falling to the linoleum floor put me in a temporary trance while Emily chatted with the hair dresser. "All done dear," the woman announced, removing the smock, "I am a genius," she decided, which reminded me a lot of Garcia. I replaced my glasses and looked in the mirror again, turning my head back and forth, my hair was the longer, neater, female version of Spencer's. I'll admit, it looked amazing... and like Spencer's. I'd have to talk him into getting a haircut, but I could already sense that it would be a losing battle.

(4)"Do you remember that one case where that Romani family was abducting little girls?" I asked from the couch. My feet were propped up over the back and I was upside down watching television.

"We've gone through this before, of course I remember," Spencer replied from his desk, he was writing to Diana in Las Vegas.

I rolled my eyes, "Allow me to rephrase; I was just thinking about that one case where the Romani family was abducting little girls," I said quickly, "Better?"

"Much. What about it?"

"Well, I was reading yesterday about the Medieval Period, and girls used to get married at the age of twelve or fourteen," I said, staring up at my toes, "I need to repaint these," I muttered.

"And?" Spencer asked, still working on his letter. "I was just thinking," I said.

"I do that sometimes," Spencer said, "Are you considering it?" I flipped over and landed on my stomach on the floor.

"Ow. Considering what?"

Spencer shrugged, still not looking at me, "Getting married, I mean you're going to be fifteen in two weeks, tick tock right?" I could see a smile creeping onto his face.


	56. Chapter 56

_Author's note: 4x24 Amplification _

I woke up that morning on the couch with a crick in my neck. Spencer and I had been watching Doctor Who episodes last night, and he'd been kind enough to leave me on the couch. I stretched and carefully rolled onto the floor, listening for signs of movement in the apartment, but I didn't hear anything. I got up and ran my fingers through my hair, walking into the kitchen to pour a cup of coffee. The smell of fresh coffee alone usual woke Spencer on weekends, but he didn't come into the kitchen.

I treaded down the hall barefoot and knocked on his door, "Spencer?" I called, poking my head in. The bed was unmade, and his go-bag was still next to the dresser. He must have been called in on a local case. I returned to the living room and dialed Garcia, looking into the fridge as the phone rang. '_Hi, you've reached the voicemail of the amazing Penelope Garcia; I'm probably busy or avoiding you, so leave a message-BEEP.'_ This was an interesting development, Penelope always answered, "Hey Penelope it's me, just wondering where everyone is… please call me back if you can, bye."

-Meanwhile-

Anthrax. The word hung is Spencer Reid's mind like thick black smoke, clouding all his other thoughts. He was at the hospital to interview victims of a supposed anthrax attack. He followed Doctor Linda Kimura, a slight, dark haired woman, into one of the rooms in a wing set aside for the remaining victims.

"Hi Abby," the Doctor said softly, "Are you feeling any better?" The girl shook her head no. A trace of fear went into Reid's heart when he saw her. She had blonde hair, and he instantly thought of Sara who was now alone for the day- unprotected. He wanted to contact her, but knew he couldn't risk breaching security. "This is Agent Reid from the FBI; if you can will you talk with him?" Spencer looked down at the girl, she looked so weak, she was pale and there was a large lesion on her hand.

"Abby, I'd like to do a memory recall exercise with you, to take you back to the park if that's ok," he said, clasping his hands together. Abby nodded again weakly, "I need you to close your eyes, yesterday you rode your bicycle to the park, how did the sun feel on your skin? The breeze through your hair? Can you describe for me what you heard and the people you saw?"

"It was warm, windy. Guys playing football. Kids," she said weakly, her voice barely audible. "I see free. Me seen freeme… Free nee…" Abby looked distressed, her speech becoming incomprehensible.

"Alright Abby, it's ok, you just rest now ok," said the Doctor, shushing the now panicked girl. Spencer looked down at her sadly and followed Doctor Kimura out into the hall.

-Meanwhile-

I'd been waiting for long enough, there was no answer from Penelope and I wanted to know what was going on. I put on jeans, a t-shirt and one of Spencer's vests. I grabbed my cell phone and FBI pass off the counter and headed for the bus stop. When I arrived there was a surplus of vehicles in and around the FBI parking area, more than I'd ever seen before. Only slightly discouraged, I marched into the entrance, and was quickly stopped by two US soldiers.

"No unauthorized visitors miss," said the first guard.

"Sir," I said carefully, "I am authorized," and handed him the visitor's pass.

He barely glanced at it, "No visitors miss."

The second guard took the pass from his companion and said, "Sorry, protocol Miss Reid," he said politely.

I frowned, "Can you at least tell me what's going on?" I asked, taking back my ID.

"That's not permitted, I'm sorry," said the second guard. I nodded and stepped outside the building, pulled out my cell phone and dialed Garcia again.

-Meanwhile-

"This strain killed the first three victims within hours JJ," Garcia said, her voice full of stress.

JJ rubbed her temples, "Stop. Please. I can't think about it that way. He took Siprox, he's got help, he's going to be fine," JJ said, trying to assure herself more than Garcia.

"I'm not good at this part," Garcia said, shaking her head, "Every time you guys go away I know you're in all kinds of danger and all I can do is sit here in my bubble and I hope and I pray and I will my babies to come back to me…" She trailed off, "I try to stay positive, but I don't know how to do this."

JJ's eyes were glistening, "If you could do anything to keep your family safe, even if it meant breaking procedure, would you?"

"Yes," Garcia answered immediately, "What procedure?"

JJ shook her head, "Never mind," she left Garcia's office quickly. Penelope turned back to her screens but could see the phone in the corner of her eye. She looked over her shoulder and reached for the phone, the Reid's apartment phone number flashing through her mind. She snatched her hand away, shaking herself, "He'll be fine, Sara doesn't need to know," she told herself.

…..

Spencer had messed up, he'd really messed up. He'd been infected with anthrax, and was starting to feel it. He still hadn't found Doctor Nichol's cure and was starting to feel weak. He pulled out his cell phone and called Garcia.

"Hey Reid," she said sadly.

"Hey Reid, wow, no witty Garcia greeting for me?"

"Sorry, I can't be my sparkling self when you are who you are"

"Garcia, do you think you could do something for me? Spencer asked.

"Anything."

"I…uh… I know I can't call Sara or my Mom without alerting everyone at the hospital or breaking protocol," he said, chocking up slightly and stopping to clear his throat.

"What do you need?" Garcia asked kindly.

"I need you to record a message for them in case something happens to me."

"Oh, nothings gonna happen to you, you're going to brilliantly find out who did this and we're going to treat this strain," she assured him.

"I hope you're right, but if you're not I really want to make sure that they can hear my voice."

"Ok, just give me a second," Garcia conceded.

"Are you ready?"

"Ready."

Spencer took a deep breath, "Hi Mom, this is Spencer, I just um, I just really want you to know that I love you, and I…" Spencer choked up again, and stopped for a moment to calm himself down, "I need you to know that I spend every day of my life proud to be your son…" There was silence again and Garcia ended the recording.

"Reid?"

"Sara now," he said quietly.

"Go ahead."

"Hi Sara, it's your brother, Spencer. And I uh, I never told you this, and I need to… I am so proud to be your big brother…. I love you and I'm-" There were voices at the door; "I've got to go," he said quickly, and hung up.

Garcia blew out a sigh and glanced across the room at her answering machine, the light had been blinking since this morning, and every missed call had come from Sara. She played back Spencer's recording for his sister and made her decision; she would call Pixie as soon as Reid went to the hospital no matter what. She would not let her be left with only that recording to hold on to from her brother.


	57. Chapter 57

_Author's note: Amplification (continued)_

I went back to the apartment, I called everyone, and no one answered. There was this panicked, empty feeling in my chest, like I had lost something. I sat on the couch with my hands in my hair for what seemed like hours. They didn't do this- they didn't just disappear.

The shrill sound of the phone ringing made my heart skip a beat, "Hello?" I asked.

"Hey Pixie," An immense feeling of both relief and anxiety washed over me.

"Where are they Garcia?" I demanded.

"Ok Pixie, I really need you to listen now and ask questions never; Reid is sick, he's going to the hospital. Don't worry he'll be fine, you should go meet him there."

My heart dropped, "Ok, I'm on my way."

I bolted out the door and down into the street, I needed to catch the bus that stopped by the hospital, that bus arrived in ten minutes and was twelve blocks away. I'd memorized most of the major bus routes long ago. I arrived just as the bus pulled up, and I sat down breathlessly in the first seat, clutching a stitch in my side.

I was dropped off at the corner across the street from the hospital. I was just inside the front door when an ambulance went roaring past and into the emergency room entrance. I stopped and watched as a very pale man on a gurney was rushed inside by a small dark-haired woman. And then I realized it was Spencer.

I ran inside and leaned across the front desk, "My brother? Spencer Reid, he's an FBI agent," I demanded, drumming my hands on the desktop frantically. The nurse very coolly told me to take a seat and I'd be told as soon as they knew anything. I sat down on the edge of one of the hard plastic chairs against the wall, clutching the sides. I waited hours.

It was well in the evening when someone shook me by the shoulder and a familiar voice said, "Wake up kid." I blinked a few times and looked up at the smiling face of Derek Morgan.

I instantly felt like crying from relief, "Spencer?" I asked, my voice breaking, "Where is he?"

"He's here, he's fine, he's going to be fine," Derek assured me, lifting me out of the chair into a bear hug. One of the nurses led us to a separate wing of the hospital, passing both the trauma and maternity wards. I grabbed Derek's hand without noticing, and he held onto it tightly as we entered Spencer's room.

He was pale, paler than I'd ever seen him. He was unconscious, and looked somehow dwarfed in the sea of white hospital sheets. I knelt down next to the bed and gingerly felt his hand, it was colder than usual. "What happened?" I asked quietly, turning to see that the dark-haired woman had joined us in the room.

The woman smiled, "What's important is that he's ok, and that he helped save lives."

She left the room and Derek took a seat by Spencer's bed while I crouched on the floor, still holding onto my brother's hand. I felt helpless, clutching his hand like a life-preserver. There was nothing I could do to help him, only to wait and hope that my brother would come back to me.

It was dusk when Morgan finally spoke again, "Little Reid, maybe you should go home, get some sleep?"

I shook my head no, "I have to stay with him."

Derek sighed and stood up, placing a hand on my shoulder, "You know he'll kill me if I let you sit up all night in a hospital, right?" I glanced up at Spencer again, weighing my chances of actually being allowed to stay. "I'll stay here all night and call you when he wakes up," Morgan said.

"Promise?"

He smiled sadly, "Cross my heart."

He offered to drive me home, but I wanted someone to stay with Spencer at all times, so I got on one of the busses. I didn't want to go home yet so I got off at a street lined with apartment buildings and complexes. I started walking and didn't stop. I don't know how I got there, but at some point I realized that I was outside Hotch's apartment building. Then I was inside, and before I could stop myself I was knocking on the door.

Hotch said something when he opened the door, but I didn't hear it. I was trapped in my mind and wanted to get out. I wanted to talk about it, about almost losing Spencer _again._ If it would ever stop scaring me. About the fact that the most stable thing in my life had come close to collapsing. All of those thoughts appeared within a millisecond, but never became words.

I just held on. I held on to Hotch for dear life; he wrapped his arms around me and let me stain his shirt with the tears I'd been holding in all day. Maybe it's because he was always losing people, or always coming so close to losing people, but I knew he understood. I didn't say anything and neither did he, he just drove me home and left. Jack is lucky to have a father like him.

Despite my nerves I slept until 10 am the next morning. I changed my clothes, I hadn't bothered to put on pajamas last night in case Derek called, and got on the bus to the hospital. I leaned against the doorway of Spencer's room and smiled at Morgan, he was asleep in his chair, just as I'd left him. I gently shook him awake and motioned to Spencer, he was still asleep, but some color had returned to his face. Morgan smiled and put an arm around me while we flipped through a magazine.

Eventually a nurse came to check Spencer and offered us something to eat. I gratefully accepted when I realized that I hadn't eaten since the previous morning. She brought Derek and I some jello and we continued our watch over Doctor Spencer Reid.

"Are you eating jello?" A tired voice asked. I looked up quickly to see Spencer now awake. I was overjoyed and jumped up from my seat, carefully giving him a hug and planting a kiss on his forehead.

Derek laughed softly, setting down his spoon, "Hey kid," He looked out into the hall, "Hey Doc, look who's back," he called, drawing the attention of the dark-haired woman from the ambulance.

"Is there any more jello?" Spencer asked. I rolled my eyes and returned to my seat.

"Hey, not so fast," The doctor scolded, "Hello Sara, I'm Doctor Kimura," she said, shaking my hand.

"What happened?" Spencer asked, sitting up slowly.

"You're gonna be alright kid, we got Brown. It's over," Derek said happily.

"How's Abby?"

"She's on the mend, just like the three others," Said Doctor Kimura, "You were right about where to look for his cure." I grinned at my brother proudly, "But more about that later," The Doctor said, glancing at me pointedly. "I'll see you three later," She said kindly.

"Thank you," I called after her, she smiled back and nodded.

Spencer came home the following day but he rarely left the couch for the next three. A lot of Star Trek was watched in those three days, as well as The Princess Diaries, which I came home from school one day to find him watching again. I can't help but think about who it will be that I lose next, and that fear creeps into my heart. I'm going to hold onto Spencer and the rest of my family for as long as I can.


	58. Chapter 58

_Author's Note: Sorry that took so long guys... _

I woke up at 5:19 am on May 24th and lay in bed, staring up at the ceiling. It was my birthday, and in 5 minutes precisely I would be fifteen. It was a pretty big accomplishment, considering that a huge percent people throughout history never lived past fifteen. I'm sure Spencer could give me the exact percentage later.

Four minutes left, I started thinking about the birthday I'd had last year. I'd spent it relatively alone and then celebrated it a month later with my new-found family. I thought about how surprised I was that people who were practically strangers had taken time out of their lives to celebrate a fourteen year old's birthday an entire month after the fact.

Three minutes left, I looked up at my picture-covered walls. One section just above my bed was plastered with photographs. Most were of me and Spencer, the one Emily and Penelope had taken when we'd fallen asleep on the couch. Pictures of the team, hanging out at Morgan's house, Penelope's lair and apartment, JJ's house with Henry, babysitting Jack. Photos of my friends Ali, Ellen and Katie, a few of me and John.

Two minutes left, I nuzzled into my pillows, thinking back to my thirteenth birthday, the last one I'd ever shared with Mom. It was just before Rich had 'left,' he'd stayed at the house and Mom had taken me to the local mall for the day. It was nothing special, but it was a good memory nonetheless.

One minute left, I shut my eyes and counted backwards from sixty. Three… two… one, "Happy fifteenth birthday," I whispered to myself. I shut my eyes and curled up in my blankets, more than happy to sleep for five more hours at least.

I woke up just after nine am and put on the new blue dress that Emily had bought me a few weeks ago. I bit my lip, looking at myself in the mirror, wondering when I'd start feeling any different. For fifteen years I'd been waiting to feel somehow different on my birthday, but I never did.

I walked out into the living room hesitantly, looking for Spencer. I turned to look in the kitchen and saw a huge banner by the front door decorated in a series of intricate circles that I recognized as the Gallifreyan- the language of time lords from Doctor Who. "Hey," said a voice from behind me. I jumped a little and turned around to see Spencer smirking at me.

"Do you like it?" He asked, pointing to the banner, "It says Happy Birthday in modern-Gallifreyan," he added.

"Yeah thanks, it's really cool," I grinned, "So do you know who's coming later?" I asked.

Spencer nodded, stepping into the kitchen, "Morgan, Garcia, Rossi and Prentiss, Hotch and JJ sent their gifts home with me yesterday…"

"Where are they?" I asked excitedly. Spencer sighed and pointed to the couch.

I ran over and inspected the area around the sofa until I located a gift bag and a wrapped box behind the couch. I gave Spencer a hopeful look; he rolled his eyes and nodded. I set the box and bag on the coffee table and sat down on the couch, Spencer took his seat in the arm-chair.

I picked up the gift bag first and opened the card which contained another drawing from Jack, this time of a selection of super heroes. I smiled and set it on the table, making a mental note to tape it to my wall later. I pulled out the tissue paper and lifted out a thick hard cover book: Choosing Your Career, The Young Person's Guide to Planning a Future. I laughed and showed Spencer. I turned back to the bag and pulled out an FBI t-shirt. I could already see which direction Hotch was pushing me towards as far as careers.

I turned to JJ's box and tore off the bright blue wrapping paper and bow. It contained a gift card to my favorite shop on main street- the book store, and a kit for growing your own coffee. I grinned and gave the kit to Spencer to set up on the windowsill while I called JJ and Hotch to thank them for my gifts. I spoke to Jack as well, who seemed completely surprised by the fact that I still wasn't a grown up.

By the afternoon Derek, Penelope, Emily and Rossi had all arrived, carrying a large assortment of gift bags, boxes, trays and balloons. Rossi and I were playing a new video game while Derek was enjoying the mini bow and arrow set (with suction cup arrows) that I'd gotten from Garcia, and using Spencer as a target.

There was a knock at the door, I paused the game and set down the controller, "Don't cheat," I said, waving a finger at Rossi. He raised his hands in defeat, and put down his controller on the table.

I opened the apartment door to a man in a baseball hat carrying a bouquet, "Uh, Sara Reid?" he asked. I nodded, "These are yours, happy birthday," he said, he smiled and handed me the flowers.

"Oh, thanks," I said in surprise, "Who are these from?" He glanced down at his clipboard, "A mister… LaMontagne," He said.

I smiled and nodded, "Well thank you," I said.

"You're welcome, happy birthday."

I looked down at the bouquet and carried it into the kitchen to put it in a vase. "Who was that?" Spencer asked, he had taken my place at the game station.

"Flower delivery guy," I called back, filling a glass with water for the flowers.

I heard the TV shut off, "Flowers?" Penelope asked.

"Who from?" Derek asked, wrinkles forming on his forehead.

"John LaMontagne," I said, fluffing the flowers up in the vase.

"Whoa, whoa, wait. Why's he sending you flowers?" He asked suspiciously.

"What kind of flowers?" Spencer demanded, craning his neck to see the counter.

"Um, looks like forget-me-nots, little white daffodils and phlox I think," I said, looking them over. Spencer sprang up from the couch, looking very nervous.

"What's wrong kid?" Derek asked, tearing his gaze from the flowers. Spencer looked back and forth between me and Morgan, and leaned down to say something to Morgan.

Morgan and Spencer both returned their glares to the flowers. "Um, guys? What's the problem?" I asked nervously.

Penelope and Emily giggled, "It seems that the young LaMontagne has quite a crush on you miss," Emily said. I blushed deep red and turned away, trying to hide my face from the group.

"What do you mean?" I laughed awkwardly.

"Forget-me-nots mean-" Spencer started.

"Love. Daffodils are chivalry and respect, and phlox means 'we think alike,'" Penelope broke in. Spencer looked at her in surprise, "I know things," she defended. He shrugged and the group watched me blush harder. Even Rossi looked at the flowers suspiciously.

I rolled my eyes and picked up the vase, "I'll just… put these in my room then, before the death glares make them wilt," I joked, hurrying down the hall.

I set the flowers on my dresser in front of the mirror and glanced back at the door. When I saw that no one was coming I leaned over and inhaled the scent of the bouquet, grinning to myself giddily. I tried to relax my face and headed back down the hall to be met by strange looks from the male agents. I grimaced and clapped my hands together awkwardly, "So… who wants cake?"


	59. Chapter 59

_Author's note: Ep 4x26-5x01_

The team, including Garcia, had gone to Canada just a few days after my birthday so I spent a lot of my time playing with my bow and arrow set and enjoying the spring weather. I was looking forward to finals next month; something about being able to pour out all of your knowledge in one sitting has always been both exhausting and very relaxing to me.

The same car kept driving past me; I could see the driver looking at a map and the street signs. He idled in the road for a minute and rolled his window down, looking around. "Directions?" I called out hesitantly.

He turned and looked at me intensely, "Oh, no thank you," he said. He had short grayish-hair and was wearing sunglasses; he marked something on the map and drove off, giving me a brief wave and smiling broadly. I walked home and took a nap on the couch, not bothering to change out of my uniform.

It was late in the evening when the door unlocked and Spencer walked in carrying his bag, looking disheveled. "Hey," I greeted softly.

He looked up, his eyes blank, "Hi," he said. I got off the couch and smoothed out my skirt, walking into the kitchen.

"Have you eaten yet? I'm starving," I said awkwardly. I was opening the fridge when Spencer's arm's reached around me and pulled me into a hug. "Um, hi?" I mumbled into his shirt.

"Hi," he said, slouching to rest his chin on my head.

"Tough case, huh?" I asked. He nodded and let me go, taking a seat at the table.

I poured him a cup of coffee and began searching the refrigerator for something to cook. "Is… macaroni and cheese alright?" I asked. He nodded again as he traced around the edge of the cup with his fingers, the drink still untouched. I took a package out of the cupboard and turned on the stove, "Coffee ok?" I asked.

He cleared his throat running a hand through his hair, which was shoulder length once again, "Oh, yeah I just want to get to sleep as soon as possible," he said, pushing the cup away. I replaced his coffee with a glass of milk and divided the soup into bowls.

I sat down across from Spencer and began eating; he ate a few spoonfuls and sipped at his milk slowly. "You want to talk about it?" I asked him quietly.

He shook his head no, "Some days are harder than others," he said, eating more of his food. I nodded and cleaned up my bowl.

The following morning I stuck my head into Spencer's room, one of his pillows was on the floor, he hadn't slept well. I shut the door quietly and left for school. The day went normally, I had lunch with Katie, Ellen, Ali and John, Alex having since permanently vacated our lunch table unless he wanted math help from the 'smart people.' I got a 98 on a science test, fell in gym and had to read in English, pretty average. I was packing my backpack for the end of the day when the loud-speaker screeched out, "_Sara Reid to the main office, Sara Reid to the main office," _it repeated.

"Ooooohhh," my friends chanted. I rolled my eyes and shoved Ellen in the shoulder, slinging on my backpack.

"Sara, phone call," The woman at the office desk told me, handing me the phone receiver.

"Hello?"

"Sara, it's Emily."

I turned my back to the secretary, "Hey, is something wrong?"

"Reids been shot, don't worry he's fine, it was in the leg," she said, rushing through the first part.

I felt my breath catch, "What happened?" I demanded. The secretary leaned forward slightly, straining to hear the conversation. I rolled my eyes and took another step away from the desk.

"He'll tell you when you get here, ok? He's fine," Emily assured me.

I sighed, "See you soon," I said and hung up.

"Something wrong?" The secretary asked.

"I… Have to leave, my brother's been injured."

I took the bus to the hospital, bouncing my leg nervously. I asked where Spencer was at the front desk, and as I walked down the hall I realized that I spent way too much time in this hospital. "Emily," I called, seeing the agent down the hallway.

"Sara," she said, looking up quickly. She sidestepped slightly when I approached her.

"Where's Spence?" I asked her eagerly.

"Oh, he's uh, down the hall," she said, standing directly in front of me.

"Alright, then what are you doing here?" I asked suspiciously, looking around.

"Just waiting for you," she said, standing squarely in front of me.

I looked around her shoulder and went wide-eyed, "Hotch?" I asked quietly, catching sight of the team's leader lying in a hospital bed. I took a step towards the door and Prentiss grabbed my shoulders, holding me back. "What happened?" I said, my voice hostile.

"Foyet."

The color drained from my face, "What?" I whispered.

"Foyet was in Hotch's apartment; he attacked him and brought him to the hospital with Morgan's credentials."

I took a breath, "Where is everyone?"

"Bringing Hayley and Jack to the hospital, they're going into protective custody," She said quietly, glancing at Hotch who was stone faced, seemingly not noticing me in the hall.

"I should… go check on Reid," I said numbly. Emily nodded and pointed to the room. I knocked on the door frame of Spencer's room before walking in, his knee and leg were bandaged, and he looked more put-off than in pain. "Seriously?" I asked, arching my eyebrows, "You couldn't make it a month without visiting the hospital?" Spencer smirked and patted the section of mattress next to him. I smiled slightly and perched at the edge of the bed, "What happened this time?" I asked.

Spencer recounted the case, how LC stood for living children, and how Spencer had been shot and the Doctor he was protecting had saved the unsub's life. I nodded, listening carefully, when he finished I asked, "What about Hotch?"

Spencer rubbed his eyes tiredly, "He wants to torture Hotch, make him suffer. He took the section of Hotch's address book that he kept Hayley and Jack's information in." I rested my head against the wall, shutting my eyes. "They're here," he said quietly. I opened my eyes and saw Jack pass the room with a woman I recognized as his mother.

"I'll be right back," I told Spencer, following them down the hall.

I watched Hayley walk into Hotch's room and saw Jack sitting on one of the hard plastic chairs I was so familiar with, kicking his feet back and forth. I took the seat next to him, "Hey buddy," I said quietly.

"Hi Sara."

I smiled down at the little boy, "How was school today?" I asked him, he looked up and started chattering away.

A few minutes later Hayley returned, "Oh, hello," she said to me, her eyes rimmed red.

"Hi," I greeted her.

"You're Sara, right?" She asked quietly. I nodded, "Jack talks about you all the time," she said, smiling at her son. "Jack, Daddy wants to see you," she said, taking him by the hand.

"Bye buddy," I waved.

Emily took the seat previously occupied by Jack, "I can't believe this is happening," She muttered. I nodded and watched for Jack and Hayley to return.

A few minutes later the pair exited the room, both looking sullen, Jack pulled Hayley in my direction, "I hear you're going away for a while," I said. Jack nodded, "I'll miss you buddy, but we'll have lots of fun when you get back, alright?" I asked smiling. He nodded again, and I lifted him into a hug, "Bye Jack," I said. Hayley nodded to me and they walked out with a man I didn't recognize.

I got up slowly, walking to Hotch's room. He was staring blankly at the ceiling, I knocked on the doorway and he didn't react. "Hotch?" I asked quietly, still no response. I walked into the room slowly and sat on the edge of the chair next to the bed. I reached for his hand hesitantly; he shook slightly and looked at me. "Hi Hotch," I said nervously. He blinked, "Hotch, I'm sorry this is happening, I am. I just wanted you to know, if you ever want someone to talk to who won't… you know, profile you, you know where I am."

He nodded, "Thank you."

I sighed, "I'd go with him if I could," I murmured, thinking about Jack. Hotch was staring off into the distance again, I gave his hand a light squeeze and left the room.


	60. Chapter 60

_Author's note: During the six weeks while Hotch recovers after 5x01_

A few days of helping me with homework in the hospital and one surgery later, Spencer was back home. Derek and Rossi had awkwardly carted the young agent from the hospital to the car, the car to the elevator, and the elevator to the couch, and after many assurances that I had things under control; they had left me with Spencer. He was seated on the couch looking uncomfortable, we had already fiddled with pillows under his leg, the coffee table arrangement and the couch cushions, but nothing was making him more comfortable.

I was settled into my usual recliner with a science textbook, reading through chapter 15 while watching Spencer through the corner of my eye. He was fidgeting but didn't seem too uncomfortable at the moment. He was surrounded by bottles of aspirin, twenty books, the laptop and my iPod- in my mind just about everything he could need to stay occupied. He finished his third book, and I rolled my eyes as I reached the chapter review questions. I muttered some answers to myself, checked the answer key, grimaced and turned back to the chapter.

"Four times," Spencer said, opening his fourth book.

"What?"

"Four times, you've tuned back to the chapter four times. You usually only look back once, you also took an extra three minutes and nineteen seconds to read that one," he said casually, running a finger down the page the novel.

I stared at him blankly for a moment, "You've been timing me?"

Spencer looked up as if he were surprised, "Yeah," He said, completely unconcerned.

"Alright then…" I muttered.

Twenty minutes later I was correcting my practice essay, going through it meticulously. "Do you want help?" Spencer asked, craning his neck to see the notebook I was working out of which was covered in cross out lines and scribbles.

"Uh, sure, I suppose," I said, handing him the essay.

He skimmed through quickly, "This is only 428 words long, why are you writing so little?" He asked curiously.

I put the cap on my pen and propped my feet on the coffee table, "Well, it's only supposed to be 350 words, I'm working on trimming it down."

Spencer frowned, looking down at the page again, "Why only 350 words?"

"Well, my history teacher set a limit for me on my short answer questions, since my last test's answers took up three sides of paper," I explained.

"That never happened to me in school, I wrote my high school short answer question on at least two sides of paper," he said.

"Just one answer?"

"Yes, why?"

I rolled my eyes, smirking, "If you can't explain it simply, you don't know it well enough."

It was Spencer's turn to stare blankly, "When don't I explain things simply?" My books fell off my lap as I literally shook with laughter, stammering idiotically between laughs. Spencer crossed his arms, watching me skeptically, when I calmed down I whispered, "Sorry," and returned to my studying.

Spencer proceeded to beat twenty levels of angry birds, read yet another book and start using the laptop, "What does 'It's Complicated' mean?" Spencer asked.

"What are you looking at?"

"Katie's Facebook page."

I closed my text book and set it down on the table, "Seriously?"

"Yes. What does it mean?" He repeated.

I smirked, "She's just a bit scared to break up with Andrew, putting that as her relationship status should do the trick."

Spencer continued scrolling through the newsfeed, "So how's John?"

"Fine," I said, blushing slightly.

Spencer stared at me for a moment or two, "Do not profile me Spencer Reid," I said slowly, pointing a finger at him. He turned back to the laptop, I saw him grimace with discomfort, "Does it hurt?"

"What do you think?" He asked coldly, shifting his leg. I turned away, my face going red.

"Sorry," He murmured.

"Yeah, yeah it's fine," I said quietly, returning to my studies.

I couldn't sleep that night, trying to review everything I'd read in my mind. The room was pitch black, it was easy to think, the darkness could have been my eye lids. A small noise from the next room broke into my thoughts. I sat up in bed and reached for my glasses. I stretched and crept into the hall, listening carefully. The noise was coming from Spencer's room, the door was open a crack and I could hear something like whimpering. "Spencer?" I whispered, the noise quickly extinguished. "Spencer, are you ok? Can I come in?" I asked.

"Alright," He replied, his voice strained.

I treaded to the side of his bed where he was laying splayed out on the mattress, his leg surrounded by all of his pillows. I sat down carefully at his side, "Hurts?"

"Only when I think about it, which is all the time," He said tiredly.

Even in the dark I could see that familiar thing in his eyes, "You're craving, aren't you?" He sighed in exhaustion and nodded, looking ashamed. I shifted my position and helped him to sit up against one of the pillows that wasn't supporting his leg directly and had Spencer lean against my right arm.

"Do you want me to stay up with you?" I asked quietly.

"You have school tomorrow, studying," He protested.

"It'll be fine," I assured him. He let out a breath, "Relax Spence," I said softly, he leaned back slightly. I started combing through his hair with my free hand, "My mom used to sit up with me when I was sick," I said, "She used to read stories sometimes too," I smiled in the dark, remembering back to when I was six, I had a touch of the flu and couldn't sleep, Mom had stayed in my room until two in the morning until I finally dozed off.

"There was once a woman who wished very much to have a little child, but she could not obtain her wish. At last she went to a fairy, and said, 'I should so very much like to have a little child; can you tell me where I can find one?' 'Oh, that can be easily managed,' said the fairy. 'Here is a barleycorn of a different kind to those which grow in the farmer's fields, and which the chickens eat; put it into a flower-pot, and see what will happen…'" I began; Spencer glanced up at me before closing his eyes.

"'Farewell, farewell,' said the swallow, with a heavy heart as he left the warm countries to fly back into Denmark. There he had a nest over the window of a house in which dwelt the writer of fairy tales. The swallow sang, 'Tweet, tweet,' and from his song came the whole story," I finished, more than an hour later. Spencer was snoring lightly; the pain vanished from his face. I shifted a little; a loud snore came from Spencer. "Fine, have it your way," I whispered, and rested my head against the headboard before falling asleep.


	61. Chapter 61

_Author's note: Episode 5x02 Haunted_

After a long leave of absence Hotch would finally be returning to work, so Spencer took the opportunity to take me out before the team resumed working on cases. "Are you sure this a good idea?" I asked again as Spencer and I passed through the movie theatre lobby doors.

"I made it all this way, there's no use turning back now," Spencer said, waving a crutch at me. We bought tickets for a new comedy film, popcorn and slowly made our way to the theatre. Upon arriving inside Spencer and I exchanged worried glances, looking at the stadium style seating.

I looked skeptically from Spencer's leg to the stairs leading to the majority of the seats, "How about the front few rows?" I suggested. Spencer nodded eagerly and carefully slid between the rows of seats.

The theatre was relatively empty, there was a small group of teens in the middle section, an elderly couple near the fire escape, a few other people scattered throughout the front and one man in the very back corner wearing a baseball cap, the brim tilted low over his eyes. He had looked up as Spencer and I hobbled/walked in.

The movie was great of course, Spencer and I ate as much candy and popcorn as physically possible. It was a nice break from studying; my exams would be starting in the next weeks. I was more than glad to fully immerse myself in cinema, but throughout the film I couldn't shake the feeling that someone was watching me.

The next day I escorted Spencer into work, we went to visit Garcia in her office. The tech-analyst wheeled over a desk chair for Spencer and I took my usual spot on the bench. "Thanks," Spencer said, sitting down uncomfortably, a grimace crossing his face as his bad knee bent slightly.

"Does it hurt?" Garcia asked, patting the back of Spencer's chair. She took her usual spot at the monitors and turned to face the two of us.

"It really only hurts when I think about it, which is pretty much all the time," He nodded, reaching for a container on one of the filing cabinets. I followed suit, catching sight of freshly baked cookies.

"No, no, get away you two!" Garcia said quickly, snatching the container back from us. Both of our mouths dropped open in protest and surprise.

"I get shot in the leg and I don't get any cookies! You know he's going to hate the attention," Spencer tried to convince her.

"Yeah and I have finals to study for, I deserve treats," I said sweetly, still eyeing the cookie container.

"It's cookies, not cake," Said Garcia, replacing the cookies with a mug full of lollipops. Spencer grabbed one immediately and took off the wrapping, I sifted though the mug until I found the only chocolate flavored one.

Spencer popped the sucker into his mouth, "He's probably just going to pretend nothing happened anyways," Spencer pointed out, and I nodded in agreement.

"Well, that doesn't mean we have to," Said Garcia.

"Maybe we should," Spencer suggested.

"Well I don't roll that way," Said Garcia.

"You know, in the entire time I've known Hotch, I don't think I've ever seen him blink," Spencer said. I pondered this momentarily; Hotch would be very helpful if ever I encountered some weeping angles, statues from Doctor Who that can only move when they aren't being watched.

"I know, it's weird," Garcia said, glancing away from us for a moment.

"Classic alpha-male behavior," Spencer noted.

"Do you guys think that he stared down Foyet?" I asked quietly, shuddering at the thought.

Spencer gave me a curious look, "It's possible," he admitted, "It could be what saved his life."

"Do you think he stared the whole time? Like with each stab?" Garcia asked softly, mimicking a stabbing motion with her hand.

"I have no idea," Said Spencer.

"Is he ok?" Garcia asked.

"I wouldn't be," Spencer shrugged, "I'm a blinker." I tried to recall the profile of Foyet I had read weeks ago and wondered nervously how long it would be before Foyet would be caught.

The office door opened suddenly, we turned to see JJ walk in wearing her "we have a case" expression. "Spence, there you are, get your go-bag," she said, sounding exaughsted.

"What's going on?" He asked, reaching for his crutches.

"Turn on the news," JJ instructed Garcia, who slid her chair across the room to her keyboards.

"Which one?" She asked, waking up one of the monitors.

"Doesn't matter." If this story was on every news channel, something was indeed very wrong. Garcia quickly called up the US National News station live feed. The headline read, 'Three Dead, Two Hurt in Pharmacy Attack.'

_'Just after 8 this morning 40-year-old Darrin Call, a lifelong resident of Louisville, assaulted customers of the pharmacy on the corner of Main and Trusten Avenues. Eye witnesses saw him walking East on Main Street minutes after the attack, he has not been seen since then,' _The reporter said.

"We're going to Louisville," JJ announced, patting Spencer on the shoulder before leaving the office. Spencer propped the crutches under his arms, stuck the lollipop in his mouth and waved to Garcia and me before following after JJ.

I continued watching the report with Garcia for a few minutes, "Alright, as fun as all this is I should go study," I said sadly, getting up from my chair. Garcia nodded and walked me to the elevator.

"When do your exams start?" She asked as a few agents left the elevator and hurried down the hall.

"Day after tomorrow," I said, stepping into the metal box. Garcia waved and smiled as the doors sealed behind me. I took the bus to Main Street and decided to walk home from there, considering I would be stuck inside for the rest of the day doing last-minute review.

Main Street was relatively quiet today since it was the middle of the week. I passed by the book shop, looking back woefully at the 'New Arrivals' sign. I stopped for a moment in front of my favorite clothing store, there was a sale there and I'd have to ask Spencer about going when he got back and exams were finished.

A man in a hoodie was walking down the sidewalk towards me with his head down, he brushed against me as we passed, "Sorry," I called after him. He didn't stop or slow down, so I assumed he hadn't heard me. I stopped to watch him hurry away, from what I could tell he had light gray hair. I rolled my eyes and returned to the apartment, finally able to study uninterrupted.


	62. Chapter 62

_Author's note: 5x06 The Eyes Have It- Thank you guys so much for reviews_

"Place your cell phones, bags and personal possessions at the front," The very disinterested test proctor repeated. I checked again that my phone was off, dropped my satchel on the front table and picked up my pens and student ID. I frowned at the hard piece of plastic, I hated the picture on this ID, I'd had to replace my old one, I must have lost it in the last few weeks.

I headed towards the back of the cafeteria, which was now filled with desks, each within its own floor tile. My desk was marked 'Reid, Sara,' with a sticky note. I set down my card and pens and looked around the room, eleventh grade Science and tenth grade English were both testing today so I could see John sitting a few rows from me.

"Take your seats please, we will begin distributing your test packets, there is to be no talking while the test is being administered, meaning there is no talking as soon as the tests are handed out," Mr. Galvano instructed, he kept scratching his face incessantly like he did when he lectured the class. I sat patiently while a few teachers circulated the room carrying the test packets, I took a deep breath and filled out my information while the proctor read the instructions.

-A few weeks later-

Exams had just finished and I wasn't too keen on sitting at home by myself while everyone was out adventuring. This is how I found myself seated on the ground between Prentiss, JJ and Garcia. Chief Strauss, a terrifying woman about Rossi's age was talking with Morgan at a desk in the corner and I was hiding from her. I'd been visiting the FBI for a year now and this was the first almost-direct contact I'd had with her. Needless to say I was nervous, more nervous than I had been during exams.

I took one more glance at Morgan and Strauss before turning back to the women's conversation, "So, did anyone explain why Hotch is stepping down?" Garcia asked.

"All Morgan said this morning was that it's happening," JJ said quietly, turning to look at the pair at the table once more, "And it's business as usual."

Emily looked disgusted, "So we're just supposed to move forward without any discussion?" She asked, sounding astonished.

"After Foyet I think we have to be ready for anything," Spencer joined in.

"It's still not fair," I muttered as Hotch passed us, walking over to Morgan and Strauss.

A short discussion ensued between the current team leader, the former team leader and the BAU Unit Chief; I couldn't catch what they were saying. Eventually they went their separate ways, Morgan looked up at us, "Guys, grab Rossi," he called. The other agents disbanded and headed to the conference room. I sat in Emily's chair, glancing around nervously, trying to locate Strauss.

I sifted through some of Emily's paperwork, trying to make some sense of the terminology. "An enucleator!" Spencer announced excitedly, returning from the conference room.

"A what? I asked, reluctantly getting out of Emily's chair.

"Someone who removes eyes, like our unsub," She explained, reorganizing her paperwork. I immediately shut my eyes tightly and my hands began to flap around awkwardly. "What? What did I say?" Emily asked while putting a few files in her bag.

"Sara suffers from Ommetaphobia," Spencer smirked, "The irrational fear of eyes. It's unfortunate because there is some very interesting history behind enucleators," he said happily.

"Seriously?" I asked skeptically.

"Definitely! For starters it's a rare form of criminal behavior, the perpetrators usually being socially awkward, disorganized males that often have diagnosed mental disorders. A well-known enucleator was Oedipus, the mythical Greek God of Thebes," Spencer quickly informed me, emphasizing various words with his hand waving. "He gouged his own eyes out after learning that he had murdered his father and married his own mother. Actually, this myth was used by Freud to name 'The Oedipus Complex' which theorizes the unconscious desire of children in the phallic stage-"

"That's… great Spence, but I've already read about the Oedipus complex," I carefully interrupted, it was dangerous to break him off mid-ramble.

Spencer looked mildly offended, "You know, from that book _you_ bought me?" I smoothed over. He smiled brightly and turned back to packing up files.

"Nice save," Emily murmured.

"Ready guys?" Derek asked, carrying his duffle bag. The rest of the team nodded and started towards the hall.

"Oh, hey Morgan," I called after him. He paused and turned around, allowing the other agents to pass him.

"What's up kid?" He smiled.

"Um, I just wanted to congratulate you on your promotion thing I guess," I said slowly.

"Thanks, but believe me, this is not going to be a permanent thing," He assured me, resting a hand on my shoulder, "Just until this Foyet thing is over." A flash of hostility crossed his face for just a moment before being replaced by his usual smile. "See ya Glasses," he said, and headed after the other agents. "Say hi to Johnny for me!" He yelled from the hall.

My cheeks reddened for a minute, embarrassed as to why the team, specifically Morgan, seemed to believe there was something going on between _John, _not _Johnny,_ and myself. The phrase, 'Just until this Foyet thing is over,' crossed my mind, and I sadly wondered when, if ever, that would be.


	63. Chapter 63

_Author's note: Episode 5x09 '100' _

I'd been sitting in Garcia's office all morning when we were suddenly graced by the presence of Kevin Lynch. The two had been awkwardly flirting and engaging in amusing banter over some form of doughnut I found highly suspicious.

"Are you sure? Bacon doughnut! You'll never be the same," Kevin said, waving the pastry enticingly.

"I can totally think of palpable ways to up my adventure quotient, thank you," Garcia refused with a distinct tone of disgust.

"Besides Kevin, I think we both like Penelope better the way she is now," I laughed from my spot on the bench in the corner. Kevin shrugged and took a bite.

"OMG It gets better every time!" He exclaimed.

Hotch had been in an increasingly bad mood since his encounter with a long-captured serial killer "The Fox" last week, but I wasn't quite prepared for his latest outburst as he stormed into the office. "Kevin you need to leave right now," he said sternly, carrying a paper while JJ followed behind. Garcia and Kevin jumped up from their seats while I tried to shrink back into my corner.

"The Foyet letters came from Fredericksburg, Virginia and West-Minister, Maryland," Hotch said as Kevin began collecting his things.

"We can match prescription drugs Foyet can't substitute with a geographic profile of the two cities," Said JJ.

"Can't substitute?" Garcia asked quietly.

"We need you to track the drugs that can't be emulated with over-the-counter drugs and can only be dispensed by a pharmacist, and you need to do it quickly, Foyet doesn't stay in one place very long," Hotch stressed.

"Then Kevin needs to stay," Said Garcia, Kevin looked up quickly.

"What?" He asked through a bite of the mysterious bacon doughnut.

"Sir, Kevin is an amazing analyst and I can work almost twice as fast with him running part of my system," She explained.

"Fine."

"Kevin these are your screens," Garcia said, gesturing to a few of the monitors as she pulled up one of her wheely chairs.

"Garcia, how long?" Hotch demanded.

"I'll tell you once I get into it," She said.

"We're going to work the geographic profile, call me when you get something," Hotch instructed. "Sara, go home," He ordered harshly. My eyebrows shot straight up.

"But Sir-" I stammered helplessly.

"I tolerate you being here normally but under these circumstances I need you out of here. That's an order," Hotch said somewhat coldly. I nodded and picked up my bag. "Hurry," he repeated to Garcia.

"I know you'll find him guys," I said encouragingly to the pair before heading out of the office. I was reluctant to leave the BAU so I took the long way, hoping to say goodbye to Spencer. I could see Hotch and the rest of the team through the conference room window. Hoping to avoid the wrath of Hotch I avoided the area, quickly walking over to Spencer's desk.

I sat down in his chair, taking another look at the conference room to ensure Hotch was still safely inside. I couldn't blame him for his frustration; he'd even missed Jack's birthday. I felt terrible for him and what he was going through and wished there was something I could do to help. I peeled a sticky-note off the stack on Spencer's desk and grabbed a sharpie, scribbling the words:

'I'm going home; I know you'll catch him.

Yours, Sara'

I carefully attached the note to Spencer's messenger bag and slipped the marker into my pocket before speeding towards the elevator. The large metal doors sealed me in and I smiled at myself in the reflection, the similarities I shared with Spencer were even more obvious than they were a year ago. He of course would have explained this as being due to prolonged exposure, mimicking each other's facial expressions. I smirked at the thought and wondered how long it would take me to get three PhDs.

There was no bus to Main Street for another thirty minutes. I decided it was better to just take an hour-long stroll home, rather than go back to the BAU to wait so I set off in the general direction of the shopping district. Rather fortunate that Spencer lived near a somewhat commercialized area, it made it very easy to get to sales on books, comics and clothing.

About fifty minutes later I was a block from Main Street, which was still five blocks from home. I silently cursed myself for not being more athletic, even though I liked taking walks on a regular basis to compensate for my disinterest in sporting.

The 'Road of Spending Spencer's Money,' as my brother had so eloquently deemed it was relatively empty. There was a dark green SUV, a minivan and a black car on the road. Since it was pretty early on a Tuesday there wasn't much activity, most stores weren't even open. The book store was closed until noon today, but I paused for a moment to peek through the window, straining to see any new titles.

I heard a car door open nearby, "Sara Reid," said a man behind me. Before I even realized what had happened, a hand grabbed me by the arm while another firmly covered my mouth, cutting off the scream that was too scared to leave my throat. I was yanked violently into the car, the doors slammed behind us. A face appeared in front of me, a sinister smile was sketched across it. The man pulled off his dark sunglasses slowly with his free hand, my eyes went wide with terror.

It was Foyet.

All at once I could see it, see him coming after me all that time. He was here on this street, I'd offered him directions. He was there in the movie theatre. He'd bumped into me on the street mere weeks ago, terror shot through me as I noticed my lost student ID card was hanging from his rear-veiw mirror. I had seen him in streets, in stores, in cars that passed me. And now he had me.

"I came all the way from Arlington for you Sara, you should feel privileged," He said coolly. His other hand now covered my nose as well as my mouth. He pulled a piece of fabric from a plastic bag and replaced it with his hand so that it completely covered my nose. I sucked in a shuddery breath before realizing my mistake.

My sight began to fade, the edges of my vision turning black. The car started and he drove off quickly. Everything went black. No one saw a thing.


	64. Chapter 64

_Author's note: '100' continued, warning, some violence._

I woke up in an unfamiliar room, my shoes and bag were gone and my cell phone was ringing. "Well, well, well, look who's awake!" Said Foyet. I tried to control my panicked heart rate, but it was like a fist was wrapped around my heart. "Big brother is calling, would you like to talk to him?" He asked wickedly. I was seeing red. "Guess not," he said, letting the call go to voice mail. He put the phone on speaker:

_"Sara, where are you? Don't panic but there are pictures of you on Foyet's computer and the marshal watching Jack and Hayley was attacked. I'm sending a SWAT team to the apartment right now." _Spencer voice came thought the phone frantically.

"How sweet," Foyet said, turning to grin at me. He dropped the phone to the ground and smashed it under his heel. I glared at him, trying to control the panic rising up in my chest. "What's the matter?" Foyet asked in a sickeningly sweet voice, "Not having fun?" A second phone that was lying on the table began to ring. "My, we are popular," He said to me, and picked up the phone.

"Agent Hotchner," he answered, sounding pleased.

"If you touch her-" Hotch threatened, I could hear his voice coming through the phone, each word dripping with rage.

"Be gentle? Like I was with you? Don't worry, I have someone… new to play with," he said calmly, picking up a knife. I tried to lean away but there was nowhere to go. He began flicking the knife through my hair. "What took you so long? I was beginning to think this phone was dead or something. Why so quiet? You usually lash out when you're frustrated."

"I'm not frustrated. You're more predictable than you think."

"Am I?" Foyet asked.

"You didn't know where Hayley was so you made her come to you."

"You make me sound lazy. But predictable? Wow, that hurts," Foyet mocked him, "Let's put that theory to the test," He put the knife away and held the phone to my ear.

I looked at Foyet in panic; he nodded for me to speak. "Hotch?" I whispered. There was silence on the line for a moment, "Sara," Hotch said weakly. Foyet took the phone back and tugged me up from the floor, dragging me roughly up a flight of stairs and to a window at the front of the house we were in. I could see out into the street, we were in a suburb.

"Hi again Aaron, it's me," Foyet said into the phone, looking outside at the road.

"Your mother tried to protect you but she wasn't strong enough, and you hated her for that didn't you? You decided that all women were weak," Said Hotch angrily.

"Those are your words not mine," Said Foyet.

"What were you, nine when you killed them?"

"It was a car accident."

"That you couldn't take credit for, that had to be hard for you. But poor George got another chance; the little orphan was saved by the wealthy, sterile, East side couple the Foyet's. And the story should have ended there."

"I don't believe in fairy tales, do you?" Foyet joked. Acid was boiling in my stomach as a car pulled up outside the house.

"That's the thing George, this isn't a fairy tale. You don't have to write this story; you don't even have to do any of this. I know you're exhausted, always looking over your shoulder, always wondering when the other shoe's going to drop. Haven't you gotten what you wanted? You set yourself apart from anybody we've ever dealt with, you're not just a famous serial killer you're The Reaper. We're going to study you and your methods for years and years," Hotch said viciously.

Foyet paused and we watched a woman step out of the car hesitantly. "You know what I've been thinking? Hayley looks pretty good with dark hair, that's ok I already have a blonde here. She's lost some weight, must be all the stress you caused her," Said Foyet darkly. "Where's the little man?" A car door opened and I saw Jack jump out and run to his mother. "Oh, there he is. Does he like Captain America because of you? Maybe Sara told him about it, she likes comics," Foyet laughed.

Another phone rang in his pocket, "That's your wife, hold please," Said Foyet, setting down the phone he was using to talk to Hotch. It was on speaker and I knew the agent could hear everything. He took out a knife and pressed it against my neck, "Shhh, the grownups are talking," he said to me.

"Mrs. Hotchner!" He answered excitedly.

"I'm here," Said Hayley. I desperately wanted to cry out, to get Hayley and Jack as far away from this house as possible.

"The marshal service gave me your pass code, I'm already inside, come on in," Foyet said, and hung up. He removed the knife from my throat and pulled my down a hallway, I had time to notice some of the pictures. All of them featured Jack, Hotch and Hayley, and I realized this must have been their house.

"Aaron, I really gotta go," Said Foyet, and shut the phone. He opened a door to a small walk-in closet. He shoved me to the ground and knelt in front of me. "I wonder if he noticed that school picture of you I took off his desk. Maybe he just didn't care," he said casually. I clenched my jaw as I heard the front door open. "Why so quiet Sara? It's probably for the best," he said, standing up. He waved the knife at me before placing it in his pocket, "Make a sound and I kill them," he said, his cheerful demeanor vanishing instantly. He shut the closet door and I was thrown into darkness.

I didn't move, I barely breathed. I could have been in that closet for hours or minutes or days even. I heard Foyet yell, "I'll be right up Jacky-Boy!" I felt like vomiting. Suddenly a loud gunshot rang through the house almost directly beneath me. I shut my eyes; the truth came crashing down on me like a wave. I was going to die here.

There were footsteps on the stairs, they passed the closet and a few minutes later returned. The door flew opened and Foyet was standing over me. "The little man decided to play a game of hide and seek; do you know where he is?"

It was like time froze. And everything came flooding back. Dad leaving, finding my Mom dead, meeting Spencer. The Reaper's profile: _The Reaper fits the profile of an omnivore: a serial killer who does not target a specific victim type. He tends to focus on his younger, female victims with his knife. He is a predator who will kill anyone. His kills are not about his victims, they are about recognition, power and manipulation. The Reaper is extremely disciplined. In everyday life he will be so inflexible that he is unable to keep close relationships or work closely with others. He pays special attention to his younger female victims with weapon of choice being a knife, The Reaper may be a hebephile, someone attracted to adolescent post-pubescents. He may work as someone with authority and access to young adults- teachers, coaches, and anyone who has been charged with sex crimes against teenage girls in the last ten years._

I could see Hotch lying in that hospital bed; I could remember myself saying "I'd go with him if I could." Jack was alive somewhere in this house, the promise of "We'll have lots of fun when you get back," and Hayley telling me that "He talks about you all the time."

I'd have to break that promise. "I know where he is," I lied.

"Really, where?"

"I won't tell you."

"You're lying."

I took a deep breath, "The only one lying here is you, George. You think you're so tough, so powerful. But you have to hide behind a gun and a knife and a mask. I think you're weak, you couldn't hurt me if you tried."

The Reaper's eyes lit up with rage. The grabbed me roughly by the front of my shirt and shoved me against the closet wall, His face less than an inch from mine. "You still think that your Hotch is going to come and save you, don't you?"

I lied again, "Yes." The more time Foyet spent on me, the more time Hotch had to save Jack.

"Let's see about that," He said through his teeth. He slammed me against the wall again, my head whipping back against it violently. He shoved me to the floor on the opposite side of the closet, I tried to break my fall and something in my wrist snapped. My breath was knocked out of me as his foot plowed into my stomach repeatedly. I struggled to take in a breath and looked into his eyes.

"You're nothing," I said as forcefully as I could. His fist crashed against the side of my jaw and I fell against the back wall. I tried to stay up; I was on my hands and knees. He was pummeling my from every side. I was shoved back and forth in that little closet in Hotch's house, my head pounding as I smacked against walls.

I struggled to stay conscious; I could see that Foyet was getting bored. Hotch needed more time, he had to get here to save Jack. "Why don't you just kill me?" I asked weakly, I could taste blood from my cut lip. We both heard it, a car pulled up outside, someone at the door. "Hotch," I whispered.

"I'll get to you later," He whispered in my ear. He pulled out his knife and grabbed me by the wrist. I hissed as the blade flicked across the palm of my hand. "Just a preview," he said viciously. He shut the closet door and disappeared. My head was pounding, I was tired. Everything hurt. Warm blood was seeping out of the cut on my hand. With my good hand and felt my pocket and slowly pulled out the sharpie marker.

My wrist felt like it was broken in half, carefully I wrote the word 'Sorry' on the closet wall. "Spencer, I'm so sorry, I'm so sorry," I whispered. Shots rang out downstairs as I slipped into unconsciousness.


	65. Chapter 65

_Author's note: '100' Again thank you all so much for the reviews!_

"Medic!" A voice rang out. I could hear movement in the house, every sound seemed amplified. The closet door flew open and I was blinded by light pouring in. _"Where is my medic?"_ Shouted a voice belonging to Emily Prentiss. "Reid! She's here!" She yelled.

I tried to see more clearly, the dark figure above me suddenly shifted into Emily. "Sara can you hear me?" She asked concernedly. I think that was the first time I actually noticed Emily's eyes; they were brown like Spencer's and always held so much warmth and concern.

"Yes, I'm fine," formed in my throat, but I couldn't get the words out without the threat of crying, so I blinked once instead. Another figure appeared, it knelt down in front of me and the darkened form revealed itself as Spencer.

"Sara?" He whispered. I could see him analyzing every square inch of me, every bruise and cut. I tried to sit up; a painful rush went through my brain. "Where's the medic?" He shouted. I saw more figures passing the closet. "It's the SWAT team Sara, don't be scared," he soothed.

He carefully scooped me up in his arms, a feat I could barely believe possible. He carefully supported my head, "Emily, get her legs," He instructed. The two slowly transported me down the stairs and outside onto the lawn. The street was strewn with SUVs, police cars, SWAT vehicles and ambulances. The sirens were deafening.

I couldn't shake the thought that it was too sunny for a day like this. It looked too cheerful. I almost couldn't stand the thought of all the other people in the world carrying on like nothing happened. Soon enough the sunlight was replaced by artificial light, an EMT helped Spencer and Emily get me into an ambulance and the metal doors slammed shut behind us.

"Sara, my name's Nicholas Perry, you're going to be just fine, alright?" said the EMT. I nodded carefully and was laid down on a stretcher, a white blanket draped over me. "Ok, I need you stay still for me, just follow this light with your eyes," He instructed. A small white dot appeared above me and I tried to follow as it passed back and forth. "That's great Sara, can you speak?"

A took a shuddery breath, "Yeah," I whispered.

"Ok, we're taking you to the hospital now; I need you to tell me what hurts."

"Head. Wrist. Hand. Stomach," I said slowly.

"I can take care of your hand right now," He said kindly. He sanitized and wrapped up my bleeding hand in gauze.

"Thanks," I said quietly, each word was draining my energy.

"Ok, I'm going to give you some medication now, this is going to prick a bit, you'll feel sleepy but it will be alright," Nicholas assured me. He carefully inserted an IV into my arm and another wave of exhaustion came over me.

"Spence, you'll stay?" I asked groggily.

"Oh course Sara, I promise," He said, his eyes were moist.

"I'm sorry," I said, before dozing off again.

I woke up in a large white room, staring up at a paneled ceiling. I suddenly remembered how hurt I must be and groaned. "Hey," someone said quietly. I looked up to see Spencer hunched over in a chair next to the bed.

"Where am I?" I asked weakly.

"Hospital. You have a concussion, a really bad sprained wrist and a lot of cuts and bruises," Spencer said.

"Jack? Hayley? Hotch?" I asked, some tears welling in my eyes as I remembered the gunshots.

"Jack's fine, he completely fine. Hotch is cut up a bit… Hayley died, I'm sorry."

"Oh," I choked back a sob. I tried to calm down and sat in silence for a few minutes.

Spencer wasn't making eye contact with me, he was barely looking. My left wrist was bound up tightly as well as my right hand. "Can I see?"

"What?" He asked nervously.

"You know. A mirror," I said softly.

Reluctantly he crossed the room and returned with a hand-held mirror. "Are you sure?" He asked quietly. I nodded, more pounding in my head.

I gasped, my lower lip was cut and swollen, and several large purplish blotches covered my face. "It's not too bad," I muttered. "Purple's not really my color though," I tried to joke. Spencer gave me a slight smile. Suddenly tears began to stream down my face.

"Sara, Sara, it's ok," He tried to calm me, wiping the tears away gently.

"I'm so sorry!" I sobbed.

"Sorry? Sorry? Don't be sorry, why are you sorry?" Spencer asked desperately, trying to calm me down.

"I… I told Foyet to kill me…" I whispered, tears still falling.

"You what?"

"I had to save Jack… to get Hotch more… more time. Had to distract Foyet… I'm so sorry" I apologized again. "You... you would have been all alone again," I cried. I could see the gears turning behind his eyes, he was piecing together what I'd told him.

"You have nothing to be sorry for Sara, you're so brave," He said quietly. "You should sleep, I'll be here when you wake up," He promised.

"Tell Hotch I'm sorry about Hayley," I said, shutting my eyes.

"Ok, ok, just go to sleep."

I drifted off into a dreamless sleep. When I woke up the next morning Spencer was napping in the chair and a nurse was standing in the doorway. "Don't wake him please," I whispered, nodding at Spencer. I was happy to notice that some of my headache had vanished. The nurse nodded and silently checked me over, changing the bandage on my hand. "Is it… going to scar?" I asked when I saw the wound.

"I'm afraid so," She said sadly. I nodded and sat quietly while she finished. "You have some visitors; do you think you're too tired?" She asked.

"What's your name?" I asked.

"Nora."

"No Nora, I'm not too tired, please send them in," I said politely. She nodded and smiled, exiting the room. I was nervous to see anyone, I heard Spencer shift in his chair.

"Morning Sunshine," I greeted him.

He smiled happily, "You're feeling better today," He stated, rubbing his eyes.

"Knock, knock," Said someone at the door. "Can we come in?" Morgan asked.

"Sure guys," I answered.

Morgan, carrying a large stuffed bear followed by Emily, Garcia and JJ entered the room quietly. "Oh, my poor, sweet, heroic baby!" Garcia cried, rushing over to my bedside. She carefully hugged me around the neck and perched on the edge of the mattress. Morgan set the bear at the foot of the bed and the remainder of the team filled the remaining chairs.

"So how do you feel?" Emily asked me, taking a seat next to Morgan.

"Like I got hit by a truck, so better," I smiled.

"I'll be giving you a lot more credit from now on Glasses," Morgan praised.

"Are you kidding? She lives with Spencer, we all know exactly how much she can put up with," JJ laughed. I laughed along with the team, a gentle throb returning to my head, but I ignored it. The group chatted for a while, keeping me occupied.

"So, where's Hotch?" I asked when the conversation had died down.

"He's here with Jack and Rossi, he wants to see you when you're ready," Spencer said.

"I'd like to, if that's ok," I told them. The team looked at Spencer hesitantly.

"Alright," Spencer conceded. They all left the room to find Hotch. The agent walked into the room, I'd heard his shoes echoing in the hall. He was wearing casual clothes today, a welcome change. He looked exhausted, but still wore his usual stern expression.

"You look tired," I said.

"So do you." He sat down carefully in the chair that Spencer had previously occupied, "Sara, Reid told me what you did for Jack and I don't know how I can ever thank you," He said, his expression softening.

"It's… not a big deal," I whispered.

"Yes it is, he could have killed you and you have your entire life to live," He said sternly.

"And so does Jack."

He sighed, "We talk about this team like a family, and if it's ever been true, it's never been as true as it is now. I promise you that no matter what happens, we will always be a family," Hotch said whole heartedly. "When Jack's old enough to understand, I will tell him what you did."

I smiled a little and Hotch put a hand on my shoulder, "It's over, it's finally over," I said, but I couldn't truly believe it.


	66. Chapter 66

_Author's note: End of the episode '100' _

In the following day my head throbbed even less, my hand was healing and my bruises had faded ¼ a shade. I hadn't been dreaming at night yet, for which I was thankful. Spencer had been reading to me all morning, trying to distract me from my bandaged hand which was starting to itch as the cut scabbed over.

There was a knock at the door, "Come in," I called. "Hi Nora," I greeted the friendly brunette nurse. She was twenty-six, engaged and studying to further her degree.

"Sara, there's a visitor for you," She smiled.

"And who's that?" I asked, rubbing my right hand against the bed sheets.

"I'll tell you if you stop messing with that hand," She scolded.

I rolled my eyes as much as I could (darn concussion) "Fine, fine, who is it?"

"A Mister… LaMontagne."

I furrowed my brow, "Will's here?"

"Hello?" A familiar voice called.

"John!" I said, my eyes brightening. Almost as quickly my face paled and I felt my cheek, trying to cover one of the largest bruises.

"If he says anything about them, he'll be out the window," Spencer assured me, pointing out the fourth floor window of the hospital. I smirked as he walked out of the room, now accompanied by the cane which had returned after he'd carried me from Hotch's house.

"Hello Sweetheart! How's the head?" John asked cheerfully.

"Fine, why?" He stooped over and planted a kiss on my forehead. I rolled my eyes and blushed, "Will you ever stop flirting?"

"Not as long as I live," He grinned.

"So what are you doing here?" I asked happily.

"Jennifer was telling Will, I heard your name, asked what happened, here I am," He explained.

"Well it was really nice of you to come, but it seems I'm too tired to have visitors," I said, nodding at the door. John turned to see Spencer standing across the hall, glaring at him intensely.

John cleared his throat uncomfortably, "Oh, well, it was very nice to see you ma'am, a pleasure as always." I laughed as he backed out of the room, waved goodbye to Spencer, and took off quickly.

Spencer returned to the room and rested heavily on his cane, "You know what? I don't like that kid."

I snorted, "That kid?"

His mouth quirked up, "Yeah, that kid."

"Since when did you become an adult?"

"Since when did you become a teenager?"

There was another knock at the door, "Everyone decent?"

I laughed, "Yes Rossi, come in."

"Reids, we may have a problem."

'Problem' translating to Strauss. Apparently Hotch's reinstatement was questionable and Chief Strauss wanted to interview anyone directly involved with the case, i.e. the team. After a lot of arguing and demanding of "Where are my clothes?" I was given temporary leave from the hospital and was carefully transported to the BAU.

The team sat down in the chairs outside Strauss' office, Hotch went to sit with Jack in the conference room. JJ went in first and I sat between Emily and Spencer. Prentiss hunched over a bit and whispered, "Are you sure you don't want to cover up the bruises?"

"Completely," I said.

Each member of the team was interviewed, and each left the office with varying expressions of irritation or disgust. Eventually it was just me sitting in the hall; everyone else had trickled into the conference room. "Baby-Reid, you're up," Morgan said. He held the door for me and I walked into an office with a large wooden table in the center.

I took a seat across from Chief Strauss, a recorder between us. "Sara Reid, my name is Erin Strauss, I understand you have some information you'd like to lend to this investigation," She said by way of introduction.

"Yes… ma'am," I said slowly. She leaned forward slightly and pressed the 'record' button on the device.

"Please state your full name and age for the record," she asked politely.

"Sara Jane Reid, fifteen," I said clearly.

"Miss Reid, how long have you known Agent Hotchner?"

"One year.

"And what is your relation to Agent Hotchner?" She asked, glancing down at her files.

"He is a coworker and former professional superior to my brother and legal guardian SSA Doctor Spencer Reid, I consider him to be a close family friend. In fact I consider him my family."

Strauss sighed, "Now I understand that you were… present at the time of George Foyet's death. In your opinion, were Agent Hotchner's actions justified?"

I stared down at the table for a moment in disbelief, studying the glossy surface for fingerprints. "Chief Strauss, you have undoubtedly noticed my injuries, the bruising and bandages on my left wrist and right hand. A very short time ago a member of the team asked if I wanted to cover up my bruises and I refused, do you know why that is?"

She looked at me quizzically and shook her head no. "It was because I wanted you to see what George Foyet, The Reaper, did to me while I was kidnapped by him."

"Yes, I read the report," she said sternly, as if what I was saying was pointless.

"What that report doesn't tell you is what Foyet called these injuries. He called it 'a preview.'"

Strauss' stern façade began to crack. "I believe I understand," She started.

"Can I ask you something ma'am?" She nodded, "Why are you doing this?"

She paused for a moment, her eyes came to rest on my bandaged right hand, "So that nothing like this happens again," She said softly, and I suddenly realized that this woman was human.

"Chief Strauss, Hotch was protecting his son. Isn't that enough?" She shut off the recorder and stood up.

"Thank you very much young lady," she said, and held the door open for me. I muttered a goodbye and went to the conference room. The team was sitting around the table, fawning over little Jack Hotchner. This was the first time I'd seen him since he went into protective custody.

"Hotch," I said quietly, nodding in the direction of the office I'd just come from. He patted me on the shoulder as he passed and I hesitated in the conference room doorway. Jack appeared deep in conversation with Rossi, or his 'Uncle Dave.' I thought back to the week in Vegas when Rossi had been my Uncle Dave and smirked.

"Sara, how'd it go?" Spencer asked. I shrugged and he patted the chair next to him which I gladly took.

"Sara!" Jack exclaimed happily.

"Hey buddy!" I said.

"What happen to you?" He asked, pointing unashamedly at my bruises.

"Oh, you know, fighting bad guys," I said quietly. Jack nodded intensely and went back to his chat with Rossi. My gaze passed over each of the team member's faces, eventually stopping at the spot on the table in front of me.

I turned my hand over, rubbing at the bandaging over my cut hand. "You should really stop messing with your hand," Spencer whispered. I grimaced and left it alone, Spencer picked up my hand and looked at it carefully, "You know, every winner has scars." I smiled in spite of myself.


	67. Chapter 67

_ Author's note: Episode 5x10 the slave of duty_

_I opened my eyes; walls rose up on either side of me. I was flat on my back looking up at the ceiling, a bright light directly above me. People dressed in black were passing by, looking down at me sadly. Their voices were muffled, some of them were crying. The face of Penelope appeared above me, tears streaking her cheeks, "My poor Pixie," She cried before moving on._

_ I tried to sit up, but it was like I was paralyzed. "Penelope! What's wrong?" I shouted, but she didn't hear me. Emily and JJ stopped next, shaking their heads sadly, their eyes were dewy. "Please, someone where am I?" I asked again, my voice quivering. No one answered. Derek, Rossi and Hotch looked down at me as well, I couldn't make out any of their emotions._

_ Finally Spencer appeared, he was sobbing. "Spencer where am I? Help!" I yelled desperately. He lifted one of my hands and placed a lily in it, like the ones I'd left on my Mom's grave. _

_"I'm so sorry Sara… I'll miss you," He whispered, running a hand across my cheek. He took in a breath, "Alright," he said to someone. "Goodbye," he whispered. A lid appeared above me, slowly sealing out the light. I was in a coffin._

_ "Spencer! Spencer! Help me please!" I yelled, fighting to keep the lid from sealing me in. "SPENCER HELP!" I cried, trying to free myself from the invisible chains holding me in the coffin. There was only a sliver of light left through which I could see my brother, "Help me!" I screamed, my heart thudding against my chest._

_ The lid closed and I was sealed into darkness, I could hear laughter. "What's the matter?" The voice of George Foyet whispered in my ear, "Not having fun?"_

"Sara! Sara wake up I'm here!" Spencer was shouting, holding me by the shoulders. I threw open my eyes, I was in my room at home, Spencer was staring at me and looking as terrified as I felt. "Sara? It's ok, you're safe," He said, relaxing his grip on my shoulders.

Tears were streaking down my face and I started shaking, I tried to speak but no words came out. Spencer sat down next to me and pulled me to his side, "It's ok, it was just a nightmare," He soothed, rocking me gently.

I kept trying to say something- anything, but every word was choked out by a sob. "He can't hurt you, you're safe, I'm right here," Spencer assured me. I snuggled in, soaking his shirt with tears, unable to stop crying.

I was still shaking, but I calmed down enough to speak, "Foyet got me… I was in a coffin, couldn't get out," I whispered, unable to look Spencer in the face. I felt him nod, "Sorry I woke you," I said, regaining a stable voice, "I'm fine now," I tried to convince him as I dried my eyes. "You can go back to bed, what time is it?"

"It's one am, Thursday," It dawned on me that today was Hayley's funeral, "And I'm not going anywhere." I looked up at Spencer in surprise, "I will be right here if you need me," he said before I could protest, grabbing one of many handmade pillows from Garcia off my bed and sliding onto the floor. He stretched out on my rug, "Go to sleep," he said gently, and shut out off the lamp.

The next morning I covered what was left of my bruises, they were fading quickly now. I put on a black dress and gloves to hide the wrappings on my hand and wrist. It was raining drearily, but by the time Spencer and I arrived at the cemetery the grass was covered in little raindrops that glistened in the sun. It was a beautiful day, and Hayley deserved it.

I cried throughout the entire ceremony and Spencer kept an arm around me the whole time. Derek had a hand on my shoulder, and I wished they'd let go so they wouldn't feel me shaking. I was one of the first to leave a white rose on the coffin. I whispered 'goodbye,' before leaving the cemetery with Spencer to go to the gathering.

The team, minus Hotch and Rossi were seated around a white table; I was pushing some food around my plate. Rossi passed by the table followed by Hotch, who had been receiving condolences with Hayley's sister for the past half an hour. "What do we do?" Emily asked sadly, watching Hotch.

"Nothing we can do," Morgan said, "we just gotta wait him out."

"Do you think he'll ever come back?" Spencer asked, his cane propped against the arm of the chair.

"Would you?" Asked JJ. I could feel the team's eyes on me for a moment, but I didn't look up.

"He'll come back, I just don't know what he's gonna look like when he does," Morgan said somewhat determinedly.

"We just need to be there for him when he's ready," Said JJ. Everyone shook their heads sadly, I continued pushing food around my plate, arranging it by size and color.

Derek's phone rang shrilly, "They can't be calling us in, not tonight," He said angrily.

"I'm on it," Said JJ, pulling out her phone.

"We can't go," Emily said in disgust.

"We have to," Said Morgan, throwing his napkin onto the table. "I'll get Rossi," He stood up from the table and stepped out onto the porch.

"Talk to Strauss, tell her to send another team!" Spencer whispered to JJ.

"There's no other team available. Nashville's calling us in, second body in two weeks both killed on consecutive Friday nights," She explained disappointedly. "They realize they're up against the clock, they think we might find something they didn't."

"But they can't send us, we're two agents down," Spencer said angrily as the team got up from the table.

"Two?" I asked, looking up from my plate.

"I can't go and leave you, especially after last night," Spencer told me.

"There's going to be another murder tomorrow, I want you to go and stop it," I said, standing up as well. "I'll be fine, I promise," I said as convincingly as possible.

Spencer looked me in the eyes, "Alright, but if you need me I will be on the next flight home." And I didn't need him; I had no more nightmares while he was gone. I did my best not to sleep for the next three days, because every time I did I saw Foyet.


	68. Chapter 68

"Good morning Sunshine," Spencer whispered, shaking me gently by the arm. I opened my eyes to see my brother looking down at me worriedly.

"Hi Spencer," I said tiredly, sitting up slowly. I must have fallen asleep on the couch last night. "You're back," I pointed out.

"Sara, you look terrible," He said, sitting down next to me.

"Thanks, that's what every girl wants to hear."

He rolled his eyes, "Not what I meant, you haven't been sleeping."

I got up and went to the kitchen, pouring myself a cup of coffee, "You've been gone, how could you possibly know that?" He gave me his 'I know everything look.' "Fine, but I'm fine," I said, waving him away with my coffee cup.

"I think you should talk to someone-" Spencer started.

"I don't need to talk to anyone Spencer, I have talked to someone. I've talked to you, and Emily and Derek and the doctors and the nurses and I'm getting tired of it!" I snapped.

Spencer hopped up on the counter and rested his chin in his hands, "Ok, ok. I think I understand. After the Tobias Hankle incident people tiptoed around me and kept asking if I was ok, it get's smothering."

I nodded and took a sip of my coffee, "Everything happened that day so fast, what I'm going through now, Derek says that I'm 'processing' what happened. Everytime I go to sleep and have nightmares. I just want to get over it," I said.

Spencer was silent for a moment, "It's been a hard week hasn't it?" I nodded again, "You want to watch Jeopardy?"

And this, my dear friends, is how I found myself on the couch with my brother, a large bowl of popcorn between us, blurting out answers.

_"Italian word for the last piece of an opera or concert."_

"Finale," Spencer and I said in unison

_"By the end of 1933 it was Germany's only political party."_

"The Nazi party," Answered Spencer.

"Nazis?" I said.

_"What is the Nazi party?"_

_"That's correct," _Said Mr. Trebek, "_And we'll be right back after this." _The Jeopardy music played into a commercial break and I ate a few handfuls of popcorn. I could see Spencer observing me out of the corner of his eye.

_"And we're back! This Texas computer maker bought $200 million of his own stock in the summer of 2008."_

"Michael Dell," Spencer answered immediately, I watched him smirk when I didn't answer. I rolled my eyes and tossed a piece of popcorn at his head.

"You need a haircut," I mumbled, devouring more of the buttery salty treat.

_"LP isn't just a long-playing record- it's also this "New Divide" band."_

Spencer looked at the screen blankly, "What is Linkin Park?" I answered.

_"What is Linkin Park?"_

_"Correct."_ I looked up at Spencer smugly, arching my eyebrows. He ate a few pieces of popcorn and turned the televisions volume up.

_"The outer limit on a field of science; the opening of Star Trek mentioned one."_

"Frontier," We answered at the same time.

_"Mark Pincus, who gave us this crop-growing game, is said to have invested $40,000 in Facebook and made $425 million."_

"Farmville," I answered after a moment.

"What's Farmville?" Spencer asked me curiously.

"You'd know if you had a Facebook, Reidikins," I laughed.

Spencer grinned at me, "You haven't called me that in a long time."

"I thought you hated that nick-name."

"I do, but it still sounds funny," He laughed.

"Whatever you say, Spence."

Spencer grinned again and propped his feet up on the coffee table, the right leg with some effort. His socks were mismatched as always, today a black and yellow striped sock with the blue anchor one. He leaned back against the couch and propped his elbows on the top and watched the end of the program, the girl from Colorado won.

"Well, that was fun," I said contentedly, finishing off the last of the popcorn, rattling the bowl around to count the un-popped kernels. Spencer picked up the remote and flipped through the guide.

"That was fun?" He asked.

"Yeah, I beat you didn't I?" I laughed. I kept laughing, the bowl fell to the floor and the left over kernels scattered but I didn't care. Eventually Spencer joined in.

"What's so funny?" He asked, smiling at me broadly.

I continued to giggle, "I- I don't know!" I said between gasps. Spencer started laughing again, I didn't let up. I kept laughing until I started crying. Not sad tears, or scared tears or nightmare tears, just tears. And Spencer and I just kept laughing.

That night Spencer Reid woke up from a light sleep, he heard something strange- quiet. He got up from bed and crept down the hall, pausing outside his sister's door and listened. He didn't hear anything. He carefully opened the door a crack and looked in, Sara was right where she should be, but something was very different.

Her breathing was calm; the blankets weren't twisted around or thrown on the floor. Spencer opened the door wider and leaned against the frame, watching her sleep. She wasn't crying, or whimpering or calling out in her sleep like she had been for the past few weeks. It was the first night in weeks that she hadn't had a nightmare. Doctor Spencer Reid smiled to himself and silently shut the door. She was going to be ok he decided, his little girl would be alright.


	69. Chapter 69

_Author's note: In response to a review I got from a guest user: Thanks so much, and Sara usually stays at the apartment alone, occasionally still sleeping over at Garcia's apartment. Thanks for the reviews guys!_

I sat on the little table, the white sanitary sheet crinkling under my hands. I watched the form of my reflection in the glossy linoleum as I swung my legs back and forth, making a small thud every time my heel hit the table legs. Spencer was seated at the opposite wall on one of the plastic chairs we were both so familiar with, his cane hooked on the chair arm.

There was a quick knock at the door and Nora, the same nurse from my hospital stay after Foyet, stepped into the room. "The Doctor says your wrist is all healed, it wasn't a bad sprain so you don't have to keep it wrapped anymore, just don't strain it," She said, setting down her clipboard.

"Good, now you can swim at Morgan's house again," Spencer said happily, by now he was tired of my complaining about not being able to get the wrap wet.

"What about the hand?" I asked, holding it up and pointing at the bandaging.

"You're done with that too, it healed well with no infection," Said Nora, stepping over to unwrap my hand.

"You got married already?" I asked, noticing the small gold band that had replaced the diamond she'd worn several weeks before. Nora blushed and nodded, grinning happily.

"Congratulations," Spencer said from his seat.

Nora carefully removed the gauze wrappings from my hand, and I sighed when I saw the mix of scabbing and scarring, "Of course you can keep it covered until it's a bit prettier," She said gently. "Here," She pulled out a roll of blue pre-wrap, "At least this looks better that the gauze," She said, handing the roll to me.

I smiled, "Thanks that was nice of you."

"Ok, your bruises have faded nicely, no swelling. Anymore headaches?" She asked, running down her checklist.

"Once in awhile, not too bad," I said.

"Good, but if they get worse or more frequent you come back straight away," She told me, "Alright, you're set to go Miss Reid, have a nice day." Nora waved and shut the exam room door behind her. I picked up the roll of pre-wrap and carefully looped some around my hand between my index finger and thumb, trying to avoid looking at the almost-healed cut.

"Right, ready to go?" Spencer asked, standing up from his chair and stretching.

I flexed my hand a few times, "Yeah, where to?"

And as all Reids know, the answer is always the bookstore. We parked at the end of the street and walked past the little shops, I continually looked down at my hand, it felt different somehow. We were two stores away from the book store when I stopped walking, staring at an empty parking space just in front of our destination. Spencer walked a few more steps before noticing I was no longer beside him, "What's wrong?"

I blinked a few times, the image of the black car… and it's driver flashed across my mind. I flexed my hand again, "Nothing," I mumbled, catching back up to Spencer as he opened the book store door for me. My mind was immediately at ease again as soon as the musty smell of old books hit my nose. I immediately rushed to the used book section

I scanned the shelves, my eyes eventually landing on a very old-looking book of palm reading. I picked it up and opened it to an early page very carefully, as the cover was nearly separated from the rest. There was a diagram of the various lines on your palm and what each represents. I discretely unwrapped my hand and looked at where the scar was. "Interesting," I said aloud.

"What's interesting?" Spencer asked, his face appearing through the gap in books on the shelf. "What are you looking at?" I held up the page I was on, "Oh don't tell me you believe in chiromancy… palmistry… palm reading," He amended himself repeatedly, trying to find the 'main stream' way to explain what he was talking about.

I rolled my eyes, "No I do not, I just found something that caught my interest," I said, "Look there," I pointed to one of the lines on the palm illustration, "I didn't have that line before, but the scar is in that exact spot, it's ironic." The line I was referring to was the 'fate' line.

Spencer shrugged and walked around to my side of the shelf, "Yeah, interesting," he agreed, glaring down at my scar, I knew how much it angered him what had happened to me, and what had _almost_ happened to me. I wrapped my hand back up and replaced the book in the bookcase.

Spencer ended up with an old textbook in a language I didn't recognize, I got a collection of old English bedside stories. Spence went to pay for them while I looked at some of the newspaper clippings stuck to the wall. I was reading about a parrot that had been found in a nearby park when I heard a very interesting conversation.

"Wow, so you understand that? You must be, like, a genius!" Gushed the red-headed cashier, she looked like a college student.

"Well, I- I don't believe that intelligence can be accurately quantified," Said Spencer, his hand outstretched for his change.

"You must have a really cool job, what do you do?"

"Um, I'm a supervisory special agent for the behavioral analysis unit, at the FBI," He said slowly, his hand still awaiting the return of his change.

"That's so exciting! You must be really brave! Are you like a James Bond type of guy?" I watched as Spencer searched for an answer, and I covered my mouth to keep from laughing.

I walked over and picked the books up off the counter, "Actually he's more like Doogie Howser… but with a gun," I said, reaching across the counter and picking up the change.

The cashier's face went blank, "Who?" I suppressed the urge to roll my eyes.

"Doogie Howser was a fictional teen doctor on the American sit-com Doogie Howser M.D. which ran four seasons between 1989 and 1993," Spencer quickly rattled off, now standing at the counter awkwardly, leaning against his cane.

"So… you're a doctor too?" The cashier asked.

"I have three PhD's," Said Spencer, looking down at his shoes.

"Right, gotta go!" I said before the girl could say anything else. I hooked my arm with Spencer's and pulled him out the door. We made our way back down the street to the car, I was laughing all the way. I sat down in the car passenger seat while Spencer opened the driver's side door.

"What's so funny?" He asked.

"Do you realize what just happened?" I asked him incredulously.

"…No."

"She was flirting with you," I laughed.

Spencer's eyebrows drew together and he drummed his fingers on the steering wheel, "How do you know?" He asked in surprise. I reached for the textbook, pulled out the receipt and flipped it over, revealing a phone number written on the back along with the name 'Suzanne.' "Isn't that the store phone number?"

"Nope," I said, showing him the actual store number which was printed on the front beneath the address.

"Oh," He said in defeat, taking the receipt from me and putting it in the glove box. "So… should I call her?" He asked nervously, my eyebrows shot up, nearly disappearing behind my hair.

"Um… I don't know… she didn't seem too…" I mumbled, the word 'intelligent' going through my head, "But she was nice… I don't know Spence," I said uncomfortably. He shrugged and started the car. We drove down the street and I glanced over at the empty parking space again.

"Spencer, are you ever going to get married?" I asked suddenly, the car swerved slightly, my brother going red in the face.

"Um, I- I don't really have an answer for that," He said awkwardly.

"Oh, ok," I said, looking back out the window. I flexed my hand again, trying to dispel the image of Foyet from my mind, "But who's going to take care of you when I move out and go to college?" I asked.

Spencer seemed confused by the question, "You know I actually lived by myself for a while before you showed up," he smirked.

"Yes, but you're lazy now," I insisted. I thought about the little gold band Nora was wearing earlier, trying to imagine my brother going out on dates or at a wedding.

"Picking up all the stuff _you_ leave in the living room has made _me_ lazy?" He asked skeptically.

I rolled my eyes, "Yes."


	70. Chapter 70

_Author's note: Just after 5x11 Retaliation, sorry for that little break in chapters and again, thanks for the reviews_

The team was on its way back from Lockport, New York and it was another case that had turned my stomach in knots just hours earlier. Emily had been in a car crash, the officer she was with had been murdered and the unsub had escaped. Luckily she'd been alright, receiving a concussion and some cuts and bruises, a diagnosis sounding a bit too familiar for my liking.

I covered my face with a pillow, trying to block out the sunlight streaming through the window, but when the pillow is bright orange it doesn't do much good. In the year that I've been living in Quantico I've acquired three homes. One, my real home, my home with Spencer, the one that was always meant to be mine. Two, the FBI headquarters, I knew my way around that building better than most of the agents. And three, the apartment of Penelope Garcia.

"Rise and shine pumpkin! Coffee's on!" Penelope called from the kitchen. I rolled over and sat up, looking over the back of the dark couch into the kitchen. Garcia was in her bathrobe and pajamas, her sleeping mask pushed up to her forehead, and holding my mug of coffee.

"Please?" I asked sweetly, reaching my arms out towards the cup.

Garcia rolled her eyes and obliged, crossing the small room and handing me the steaming mug, "You, Pixie, are getting spoiled," She said, wagging a finger at me.

"Spencer keeps saying that, I don't get it," I said, taking a sip of my coffee. Garcia laughed and pushed my legs off the couch, taking the seat next to me. I held one of my legs up, looking at my toenails; Garcia had painted them bright green and silver last night.

There was a soft knock at the door, "Garcia?" Spencer called from the other side.

"When do you sleep?" I shouted as he walked into the small apartment.

"Maybe if you woke up before noon occasionally you'd know," He said, pouring himself a cup of coffee.

"There's a time before noon?" I asked, face palming myself.

"Ha ha, so are you ready to leave?"

I went and changed out of my pajamas in Garcia's bathroom and put on shorts and a button up. I came back to the living room where the couch had been unmade so it was now a couch instead of a bed again. Spencer was carrying my bag, chatting with Garcia.

I picked up my coffee cup to finish it before we left, but no coffee reached my mouth, the cup was empty, "Spencer,"

"Yes?" He asked innocently.

"Did you drink my coffee?"

"Yes."

"Right," I said, depositing the empty cup in the sink.

"Thanks again for keeping her Garcia," Spencer said to the tech analyst.

"You don't have to thank me! She's my Pixie after all, you have to share!" Garcia said, giving me a hug goodbye.

"Bye Penelope," I said as she shut the door behind us.

Spencer loaded my bag into the backseat and we drove for a few minutes while I looked out the window, "So, JJ, Will and Henry are coming over for dinner, they're bringing meatloaf," Spencer announced, "And… John," he added with a scowl.

"Cool, I haven't seen him since-" I stopped myself there, hearing 'Foyet' or 'the hospital' could easily put Spencer in a bad mood for an entire day. He nodded and I flexed my hand nervously, I still kept the scar covered with pre-wrap, even though it was now as healed as it would ever be. "So does that mean I have to make mashed potatoes?" I asked, breaking the silence that had fallen.

"Um… yeah if you wouldn't mind. The potatoes are in the trunk" He grinned sheepishly.

I rolled my eyes, "Fine, but you have to help."

And by help I meant make Spencer do all the work for once, under my supervision of course. I made some peas and left Spencer to his mashing. By evening everything was warmed up just as the LaMontagnes (and one Jareau) knocked on our door. "Hey again, Reids," Will greeted, carrying a pan. JJ stood behind him carrying Henry, and behind her was John carrying the baby bag.

"Hi, come in," Spencer said to the couple, stepping aside to let them pass.

"Hi Sara," John greeted, hesitating at the door. I glanced up at Spencer, giving him a stern look.

Spencer sighed, "Hello… John, won't you come in?" He obliged.

"Yes sir, thank you," John said nervously, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose and hoisting the bag onto his shoulder, rushing past Spencer and into the kitchen. I glared at Spencer and followed John, bypassing the kitchen and going to sit next to JJ and Henry on the couch.

JJ immediately passed Henry to me and went to the kitchen to get the bag. Spencer took the spot next to me and starting cooing at Henry who started cooing back. "You've turned Uncle Spencer into an idiot Henry! You're very good at that!" I exclaimed, bouncing the baby up and down. Spencer glared at me but went right back to cooing. After a few minutes I set Henry on the floor and he promptly crawled away. I smiled and joined JJ and John in the kitchen while Spencer started chatting with Will.

John politely offered to set the table while JJ and I put the food together. A few minutes later the five of us were seated around the small table while Henry crawled around in the living room, playing with his toys. John was seated across from me, Spencer next to me, Will across from him next to John and JJ was at the end between Will and Spencer.

"So how's the-" John asked, pointing discreetly to his right hand.

"Eh, better," I said quietly, watching Spencer out of the corner of my eye. Will started to pass the bowl of peas to John, but Spencer intercepted it and quickly set it as far away from us as possible. "Um, Spence, I'd like some," I said, pointing at the bowl. Spencer grimaced and shook his head no. "Why?" I asked incredulously.

"Because… I want them," He said slowly.

"All of them? But you hate peas," I reminded him.

"No, I don't!" He tried to convince me, putting a large helping on his plate next to the potatoes. JJ was watching with a knowing look, I was completely dumbstruck.

"John, would you like any peas?" I asked. John looked at Spencer nervously and shook his head no. "Alright, fine Spencer, you can have all the peas."

"Good, you're teenagers, you're not supposed to like vegetables," Spencer agreed stubbornly.

"Right… so John, how was your birthday?" I asked, changing the subject as I started on my potatoes. His sixteenth birthday had been one of the first days I'd spent in the hospital after Foyet.

"Good, I got my permit," He said proudly.

"Looking for cars yet?"

"Motorcycles actually, Will's going to teach me," John said, taking a bite of meatloaf, he didn't notice the death glare he was receiving from Spencer at the word 'motorcycles.' I nudged my brother in the ribs and turned to Will.

"You ride?" I asked interestedly.

Will received a stern look from JJ, "Used to, a long time ago," He said quickly, winking at John.

"That's cool, you'll have to let me know when you find a bike," I said, Spencer began stabbing furiously at his large serving of peas with his fork, he hadn't eaten any.

Later that evening after the group had gone home Spencer fell face-down onto the couch and curled into a ball. I sat on the arm of the sofa and patted his head, "There, there, what's wrong?" I asked gently.

"Teenage boys and motorcycles. And you are to have nothing to do with either," He groaned, covering the side of his head with a pillow.

I rolled my eyes, "Mind explaining the whole 'all the peas are mine' incident?" I asked calmly.

He sighed and dug deeper into the couch so his answer was muffled, "Phenylethylamine, controls love hormones, found in peas and chocolate," He muttered.

I smiled to myself and kissed the small amount of my brother forehead that I could still see under the pillow, "You poor thing, Spencer Reid, you just won't learn to share."


	71. Chapter 71

"Hi," I greeted Hotch. He was seated at a corner table at one of the coffee houses near Spencer and mine's apartment. He was still in the dark suit he wore to the BAU and had two cups of coffee on the table in front of him.

"Sara, thank you for meeting me here," He said, his tone formal. I saw his eyes flick to the wrap around my hand; I never let anyone see the scar, not even Spencer. I pulled out the chair across from him and took one of the coffee cups, taking a sip. It was cool, so Hotch had been here awhile.

"So… how's stuff been?" I asked somewhat nervously, I had rarely seen Hotch since the funeral and his return to work.

Some of the formality disappeared as he remembered exactly who he was talking to, "Pretty well, Jack's doing well," he said, smiling a little.

I smiled back, I'd been thinking about the little boy a lot since the funeral. "So what did you want to talk about?" I asked.

Hotch sighed and pulled a letter out of his jacket and set it on the table, "Roy Colson," he stated.

"Roy Colson? You mean the guy who wrote 'Night of The Reaper?'" I asked, glancing down at the envelope.

Hotch nodded, "I promised him full access to the BAU after The Reaper was caught. He wrote me a few days ago to ask about what happened, I called and he found about what happened to you. Roy wants an interview."

"… With me?" I asked astonished. I noticed the woman behind the counter watching us with interest as Hotch's phone went off.

"Sorry, one moment," He apologized to me, answering the call, "Hotchner… I was just asking her now… Yes she's here," He said to someone at the other end of the line. He covered the mouthpiece of the cell phone with his hand, "It's Roy, he'd like to speak with you if that's alright," He asked hesitantly.

After a moment I nodded and Hotch put the phone on speaker, "Hello?" I said.

"Sara Reid, hello!" Roy Colson greeted with a distinct Boston accent, "How are you?"

I self-consciously put my right hand under the left even though I knew he couldn't see it, "Fine thanks, and you?"

"Very well thank you, and very interested to talk to you young lady," He said eagerly.

I looked up at Hotch nervously, "So what did you want to ask about?" I asked Roy.

"First off, I want you to know that you don't have to talk to me if you don't want, this is entirely your decision. Now, Agent Hotchner told me about your encounter with The Reaper. I don't know if you're aware of this, but you are considered as his only surviving victim."

I looked at Hotch in shock and confusion, "But you-?"

Hotch held up a hand, "Foyet didn't try to kill me when he attacked me, and it was… part of the job. He never attacked or had any intention of killing Roy. That just leaves you."

My face paled and I covered my mouth with my hand, processing. After a minute I said very calmly, "I'd like to talk to you, but I need to talk this through with someone first, is that alright?"

"Oh course, you can get back to me any time you'd like to chat," Roy said politely.

"Alright, goodbye Roy," Hotch said, ending the call.

I leaned back in my seat and ran a hand through my hair, "I- I don't know," I said quietly, "I mean, it's barely been a month and a half, I just-" I trailed off. "Did you ask Spencer about this?" I asked Hotch, who nodded.

"He said it's your choice."

I nodded, trying to imagine exactly how Spencer would have said 'it's her choice.' I'd guess not too happily. I sighed and got up from my chair, "Tell Jack I say hello," I said, "Thanks for telling me about this, see you later Hotch." I walked out the door and into the street and headed towards home. I was deep in thought when I noticed a familiar face.

"Spencer?" I called out. Sure enough the man across the street turned around, it was him. He crossed the street quickly. "Did you follow me? I demanded, "You knew I was going to meet Hotch, what are you doing here?" I asked.

Spencer nodded, "I've been following you every time I could when you left the apartment for the last month," He admitted.

"Why?"

He shrugged and I hooked my arm with his as we walked back to the apartment in silence. I knew he worried about me, I didn't realize how much. Spencer immediately went to his room to read while I stormed around the living room, looking at my hand and wondering what to do.

Eventually I picked up the home phone and dialed John's house, he picked up within two rings, "Hey John, it's me," I said, going into the kitchen to sit on the tile counter.

"Hello," He said cheerfully.

"Do you know who Roy Colson is?"

"Umm, no. Should I?" He asked.

I smiled a bit, "He wrote the book 'Night of The Reaper,' about the Boston Reaper," I said quietly, hoping that Spencer wouldn't overhear somehow with his weirdly perfect hearing.

"Oh… alright, what about him?"

"He's a friend of Hotch's and he wants to interview me. I don't know what to do," I confided.

"What? No! You need to forget about what happened! You shouldn't have to think about what he did-" John practically shouted, before cutting himself off abruptly, "What I meant was… maybe you should talk it out with someone smart, practical," He suggested, calming himself down.

"Isn't that why I call you?" I teased.

"Yes darling, and don't you forget it. But I'm a bit too emotionally involved to give a practical opinion," He said slowly.

"Right, well thanks John."

"No problem. Bye," He hung up a moment later.

I hopped off the counter and began to pace around the living room again, phone in hand. I walked over to Spencer's desk and cautiously opened one of the bottom drawers; I hadn't been in this drawer since November after we got back from Las Vegas.

I sighed and dug to the very back of the drawer until I finally found a business card. I nervously punched in the number and extension, checking over my shoulder to make sure Spencer wasn't nearby. "Kierschenbaum, Wieder and Moore, how can I help you?" Asked a friendly woman's voice.

"Hi, my name's… Emily Prentiss, I'd like to speak to an attorney."

"One moment please." I was put on hold while the call was transferred, and I rubbed at the scar on my hand nervously.

"William Reid," A man answered after a few minutes.

"Hi Dad, it's Sara."


	72. Chapter 72

"Hi Dad, it's Sara." I said quietly.

"S-Sara? Hi, um, how are you? Something wrong?" Dad asked quickly. I hadn't spoken to him since we left Las Vegas, so I could understand his confusion at hearing from me.

"No, nothing's really wrong; just… if this is a bad time I could call back?" I asked, again looking over my shoulder to ensure that Spencer was nowhere near.

I could hear him dismiss someone quickly before answering, "No, no now is fine. So, how are you?" He asked again.

"I'm fine, sort of. A thing happened to me pretty recently," I said, flexing my hand.

"What kind of thing?" He asked worriedly.

I told Dad about what had happened with George Foyet from the beginning, that I was fine, Spencer was fine and was taking good care of me. By the end of the conversation he was noticeably choked up. I wondered if he still searched for information about Spencer, and if he'd ever looked me up since we'd last met.

"So, he wants to interview you?" Dad asked again.

"I guess, he says I'm The Reaper's only surviving victim."

Dad was silent for a moment, "What do you think about him? About Foyet?"

"He was pathetic. He was a monster and a coward and doesn't deserve recognition," I answered quickly. "They beat him."

"Maybe you should put that out there then for people to hear."

Now was my turn to be silent. I drummed my fingers on the desk, staring at the wall. "Alright. Thanks Dad," I said softly.

"It's no trouble, Sara. I'm… I'm sorry that happened to you." He said sincerely. I wondered briefly at how his worry actually made me happy; to know that he cared, even a little.

"I know," I replied.

"You can call anytime if you want, I'd really like to hear about how you are."

"Maybe. Thanks again, bye," I said quickly, hanging up.

That night I went to bed with about a million things screaming inside my head. I nuzzled in under the sheets and watched the ceiling fan go round and round in the dark, piecing together facts and opinions and fears, and wondering how I was going to tell Spencer.

In the next room Doctor Spencer Reid had settled into a fitful sleep. He had heard his sister on the phone; she'd called their father in Las Vegas. He didn't understand why, even though his analytical mind had produced four theories already.

_Spencer was sitting in the living room of his Las Vegas suburban home. He recognized it instantly, yet it was so different. He realized that he was only about sixteen. He looked around the familiar room, the books that he remembered were usually scattered around were stacked neatly on a bookshelf and the house was cleaner than he remembered it to have ever been since Dad left._

_ He walked into the kitchen, usually the counter was lined with pill bottles to control his mother's schizophrenia, but they were gone. This room too was cleaner than he could ever remember it being. Suddenly, a very small girl with bright blonde hair ran into the room and grabbed onto his legs, "Spencer!" The girl squealed, "I thought I saw a monster!" She looked up at him with big blue eyes._

_ "Sara?" He asked in confusion, picking the girl up._

_"Spencer, she wants you to get rid of the monster in her closet," a woman now walked into the room, his mother Diana. She looked healthy; her hair was neat, longer than it had been when he'd last visited her. She laughed as the little girl nodded vigorously and wrapped her small arms around his neck._

_Spencer's father walked through, carrying a brief case, he was still wearing a wedding band, "See you two later," He said cheerfully, ruffling Spencer's hair and giving Sara a kiss on the top of her head before walking out the door._

_"Bye Daddy!" The tiny Sara called. Spencer looked down at the child in his arms._

_"Now tell me about this monster," He smiled._

_"It's scary," She whimpered. _

_"Really? What's it look like?"_

_"It's really big, and made out of dirt and hair, and it's scary," The child explained._

_"Don't worry, I'll protect you," Spencer assured her. His mother smiled again and began to prepare dinner._

Spencer Reid awoke with a start; he was back in his bed and twenty-eight once more. He got up quickly and went to his sister's room, looking inside. Sure enough she was still fifteen and sleeping. The blankets were twisted and one of the pillows was across the room, she'd had a nightmare, but this one had been silent and had not woken him up.

He looked at her sadly, wishing he could have prevented any of this from happening. Even though he hadn't known her at that age, he still saw Sara as a little girl sometimes, someone who needed protecting from the monsters. He knew from experience that monsters are real; he just wished he could have protected Sara from hers. He closed his eyes and pictured the family from his dream, wishing that he could have protected her back then like he wanted to protect her now. But of course that dream wasn't real; after all, the real world is where the monsters live.

Spencer shut the door silently and walked into the living room. He stopped in front of the bookcase and picked up a photo album that Penelope had put together over that last year. He flipped through the almost 100 pictures, for some reason there were a lot of pictures of Sara passed out in various areas of the FBI, probably while waiting for the team to get back. There were pictures of her with every team member, but mostly of Sara and himself. Some of the last pictures were of Sara in the hospital after Foyet; she'd been a good sport, never complaining while she was there. He smiled at the final picture of Sara looking thrilled at being released from the hospital in a wheel chair, Emily walked behind Derek who was pushing her down the hall and Spencer was next to her, holding her hand. Sara could take care of herself he decided, but he would always be there for her, just in case.


	73. Chapter 73

_Author's Note: Episode 5x12 Uncanny Valley. As always, thank you all so much for reading and reviewing!_

Spencer and I had gone to the park near our apartment for the day to enjoy the weather, read, and visit some of the chess players that liked to frequent the chess tables that were set up there. Spencer and I were seated near an old acquaintance of his who was playing against himself. Spencer was speed-reading (as always) and I was drawing in a notebook.

The park was relatively loud as we were right next to a playground and I didn't understand how Spencer's friend, whose name was Eric, could concentrate so easily on his game. "I see checkmate in five, what do you see?" Eric asked. Although I refused to let Spencer try to teach me chess I still understood that he thought he could win in five moves.

"I see it in three," Spencer answered, glancing up from his book. Eric looked at him in disbelief and continued to play. I watched him for another minute until he finished in three moves as Spencer had predicted.

"We've missed you out here," Eric told Spencer.

"Oh, thanks. I had to take a little break."

"How come?"

"I used to play with a co-worker friend of mine, he was probably the best mind I ever went up against. One day he just decided that he didn't want to play anymore," Spencer explained, speaking of Gideon. If he had been the best mind that Spencer had ever competed with when it came to chess, how was Emily still able to beat him I wondered, smiling to myself.

"So you just gave up too?" Eric asked.

"Quite the opposite, I attempted to play through every permutation of moves on a chess board."

"But that's an infinite number of games!" Eric exclaimed.

"It's not infinite, it's just exponentially large," Spencer corrected.

"You couldn't have played through them all." I had to agree with Eric, even though Spencer probably had the mental capacity to play though all the different games, I doubted he could have actually done so. I thought about the chess board Gideon had given him on Christmas, it hadn't been touched since that day.

"There's an average of forty moves per chess game. I'll tell you something, the more I played, the more I realized that every single match, every single chess game is just a simple variation on the exact same theme. Aggressive opening, patient mid game, inevitable check mate. I realized why my friend quit, he was tired of repeating the exact same pattern and expecting a different outcome."

"That's why I stick to checkers," I muttered. Eric smirked and studied his chess board again.

Spencer's phone went off as Eric asked, "So you have a lifetime of chess strategy in your head, and you're just sitting on it?"

"I still use it, I just play it differently. I have to go, it was good seeing you," Spencer said, picking up my bag and his book before hurrying away.

"Nice meeting you Eric," I said, and waved goodbye.

Spencer and I hurried through security together so he could get upstairs to the briefing. The security guard who usually checked me into the building said hello as I followed after my brother. I hadn't been to the FBI since my interview with Strauss, and that had been over a month ago.

I waited at Spencer's desk while he went to the conference room. I sifted through some of the papers on his desk, mostly case reports and a few profiles. At the bottom of the pile was a copy of 'Night of the Reaper' and the report from the Foyet incident. A summary of my injuries and my account of what had happened was at the front. I sighed and put everything back in order just as the team returned to the bull-pen.

I watched Hotch go to his office for his go-bag and waited for Spencer to reach his desk. "Where are you going?" I asked.

"Atlantic City," He answered, "I want you to stay with Garcia while we're gone."

"Alright," I said quietly. Spencer thought I'd be safer if I stayed with someone, but the truth is that you can be scared no matter where you are. "See you when you get back," I said, giving my brother a hug and hurrying up to Hotch's office.

I knocked on the door and slipped inside before the rest of the team noticed, "Hotch," I said, the profiler looked up from his files.

"Sara," He greeted, "Can I help you with something?" He asked somewhat distractedly.

"Is it ok if I use your office while you're gone, I need to call Roy Colson," I explained.

"Sure, make sure you ask to see the notes he takes before he tries to publish anything. He's a good reporter and he'll treat you fairly," He said, picking up his bag."

"Yeah, thanks Hotch," I said. He patted me on the shoulder as he passed, I watched through the window as he followed after the team. I shut the office door and pulled a piece of paper out of my pocket that had Roy's phone number on it. It felt odd sitting behind Hotch's desk, even though I'd spent quite a bit of time there I'd never sat behind that desk. It felt right and wrong at the same time. It was Hotch's place, but it felt right to be there.

I dialed the phone and was put on hold twice as the call was transferred, I'd evidently been given Roy's work number. "Colson," He answered, reminding me of the team whenever they answered their work phones.

"Hi, Roy, this is Sara Reid," I said nervously.

"Hi, Sara! What can I do for you?" He asked cheerfully.

"I think I want to do an interview with you, I'm just wondering when a good time is."

"Is this afternoon alright? Say two o'clock?" He asked.

"Um, sounds fine," I agreed.

"Great, talk to you then!" He said excitedly.

"Ok, thanks Roy." I hung up and leaned back in the chair, I liked this office I decided. I spun the chair a few times before getting up and heading down the hall to see Garcia. I was surprised to see that the tech analyst's hair was now red instead of blonde. "Hi Penelope," I greeted, taking my usual spot on the bench, "I like the hair!"

"Thanks, Pixie," She said, fluffing one of the pigtails, "I'm just about to call our people, care to join me?" She patted the swivel chair next to her. I nodded and took the chair, looking over the monitors. The team appeared on-screen a moment later, deep in conversation.

"Whoa Red, look at you!" Derek exclaimed as Penelope appeared on their laptop. He turned the computer so that the rest of the team could see as well.

"Can I dye my hair too Spence?" I called out.

"No," He replied quickly in a stern voice, JJ and Emily laughed.

"Garcia what did you find out about the clothing they found the victims in?" Hotch asked.

"At first, only that both garments were made from chiffon. But, thanks to the twin powers of the Atlantic City police and my impeccable eye for fashion, we have also determined that these garments fit ridiculously well. They're super flattering to each victim's exact measurements, kind of exactly like that the unsub whipped them up herself," She replied.

"Maybe that's what connects the victims," Emily suggested.

"How so?" Hotch asked.

"Maybe she isn't just killing petite women because they're easier to abduct and pose, but because of a physical type. She wants a body type," She explained.

"She wants a specific size of woman?" Derek asked.

"Please tell me she is not killing these women because she needs human models. There has got to be more to it than that," JJ said in disbelief. I desperately hoped that JJ was right.

"There probably is, but at least it gives up a start on victimology," Said Rossi.

"Prentiss and Morgan, I want you to interview the victims' families, talk to them about lifestyle choices. Any body image issues these women may have had. Reid, go to Rita Stuarts autopsy, see if the drugs point to any specific medical training this unsub may have had. Dave and I will go to disposal sites and Garcia," Hotch instructed.

"Sir?" Garcia asked.

"I want you to check missing person's reports for the last two months, see if any abductions match what we know, we need to find out if the unsub has already taken another victim." Garcia nodded and clicked out of the video chat, going back to her keyboard. It was already twelve-thirty so I decided to go downstairs for lunch, leaving Garcia to her work.

I took the elevator to level two where a cafeteria was located. I bought a sandwich and a drink at the counter from a bored looking server and sat down at a corner table. I recognized one of the agents having lunch as Anderson, who was part of the professional staff. There were also a few security guards and a police man, but the room was relatively quiet.

An hour later I returned to the BAU and slipped into Hotch's office. I noticed that the number of pictures of Jack in the office had nearly doubled since Hayley's death; there were even a few pictures of me. I took my notebook back out of my bag and started jotting down what had happened that day, even though that entire day was still completely clear in my mind. At two o'clock exactly Hotch's office phone rang. I picked it up hesitantly and answered, "Agent Hotchner's office, this is Sara Reid."

"Sara, it's Roy Colson," Said Roy.

"Hi, so you have some questions for me?" I asked nervously.

"Yes I do, you don't mind if I record this conversation?"

"Not at all," I replied.

"Ok, keep in mind that if there's anything you don't want published just say so, and you're more than welcome to see any notes and the article I write-up before anything's published." Roy explained.

"Good, I appreciate that," I said gratefully.

"Alright, let's get started."


	74. Chapter 74

_ Author's note: The Uncanny Valley continued, thanks so much for the review I got from Lexi yesterday!_

I went back to Penelope's apartment in the late evening, feeling drained but pleased with myself. The interview had gone well and Roy had promised to send me the article in the following days before anything went online or to print. Garcia was still at the BAU feeding information to the team and I was seated on the couch in her living room.

It was already dark outside and I turned every light in the apartment on, fending off the darkness that liked to creep up on me so much. I unwrapped my hand and picked up a glue bottle. When I was little I'd always liked to make handprints out of glue, and I wanted to see how the scar would show up if I did the same thing now. Footsteps in the hall passed the apartment's front door and I waited nervously for them to fade.

I texted John with my dry hand for a while with the TV on. I liked to have some noise when I was alone, it made me feel safer. After about a half hour I carefully peeled the dry glue off my palm and studied the print that it made. I could see where the scar was very clearly, it was a space free from the little lines that covered the rest of my hand. I rolled the print up into a ball somewhat angrily and threw it away. I fell asleep a short while later, graced with a nightmare-free sleep.

The next morning I woke up at 5:30, I could see Garcia in her room through the dangling beads that served as her bedroom door. I got up and quietly got dressed, grabbed my cell phone and the key to her apartment before heading out into the hall. I walked downstairs to the entrance of the building, my footsteps echoing on the metal stairs. I sent a text to Garcia that she would see later before heading outside into the bright pinkish light of the morning.

It was windy, and surprisingly cool for summer. I turned up my shirt collar and tucked my ponytail underneath to keep my hair from blowing into my face. I walked for a long time, staring at the toes of my red converse, like the ones the tenth Doctor used to wear, a feeling of nervousness creeping into my stomach. I felt awful, about the interview and not telling Spencer. Knowing him, he would have wanted to be there with me while I talked to Roy, to coach me on giving answers and rambling about something. I was even a little angry at myself for doing the interview at all, knowing that Spencer would read the article and have all those memories come back.

I shook my head, trying to shake some of the guilt away as I reached Main Street. I'd left Garcia's well over an hour ago, by now there were quite a few cars on the street filled with people leaving for work. I walked toward the bookstore; all the shops were closed until later so there was no parking on the street until 8 am. I sat down on the curb outside the bookstore, right where Foyet had waited for me. For some reason it was that spot that scared me the most, that brought back the most fear. It had felt like I'd been ripped out of my life when he grabbed me, like I had lost everything I had in a single instant. Like when I'd found Mom.

I put my forehead on my bent knees, closing my eyes. I could see everything that had happened that day perfectly, and the gunshot that had taken Hayley was still completely clear in my mind. I wished I could bring her back, for Jack's sake. At least he had his aunt and Hotch. My phone buzzed in my pocket, breaking my train of thought (as much as it can be broken when it comes to a Reid). Garcia was calling, "Hello?" I answered.

"Where are you Sara Reid? You had me worried sick!" She shouted, I removed the phone from my ear slightly, "I wake up this morning and you're gone! All I have is a text saying 'I'm out for a walk' It's 6:30 in the morning!" She continued. "That was over an hour ago Sara! I called Reid, I called your apartment, and I've called you twice already-"

"Wait, you called Spencer?" I asked nervously, standing up from the curb and stepping back onto the sidewalk.

"Yes, I did. I'll call him back right now, where are you?" She asked, calming down some, the tone of irritation still in her voice.

"I'm at the book store on Main," I said shortly.

"Stay there, I'll be there in a few minutes," She said before hanging up.

A few hot tears fell from my eyes, I brushed them away quickly. "_Why can't you do anything right?_" I muttered angrily to myself. I walked over to the building and sat down against the wall, waiting for Garcia to arrive. About 15 minutes later Garcia pulled up in front of the store in Esther, her car. She got out quickly and rushed over to me.

"Sara Reid," She said, sounding frustrated. She grabbed me by the hand and pulled me up so that I was standing, "What were you thinking, Pixie?" She clearly wasn't as mad at me anymore since she'd used my nickname, but I was still nervous.

"I- I'm sorry Penelope… I just wanted to- to be alone for a while," I murmured, my eyes were still hot, threatening more tears.

Her demeanor instantly returned to normal, "What's wrong Sweetie?" She asked, putting a hand on my arm.

"I did the interview with Roy, and I didn't tell Spencer, and now he's going to be mad because I went out by myself and made you worried," I said quickly.

Garcia walked me over to the car and I got in the passenger's side, "No, no, it's alright, he's not mad," She tried to assure me.

"Yes he is, I know he is," I insisted, furious with myself for making him nervous again.

Penelope evidently decided that I was in no state to discuss, so she walked me up to the bull-pen, said something to Anderson, and went to her lair. I sat down at Spencer's desk and woke up the computer. The other agents frequently made fun of Spencer for his fear of technology, and I rarely saw him use his computer, so I was surprised to find a large personal file saved to the desktop.

I opened the file hesitantly; it appeared to be a folder of picture files. I scrolled though the twenty or so photos, all of me and him, I recognized them as his favorites from the album that Penelope had put together. It made me feel even worse for worrying him and made me start to miss him, even though the team had only been gone a day and a half. I glanced over at Anderson who was watching me out of the corner of his eye, and closed the computer back down. I nodded to the agent observing me before going up to Hotch's office.

The team returned a few hours later, I waited nervously back at Spencer desk, leaning against the side. He approached me quickly, his face blank. I braced myself for shouting or reprimanding of some kind. Imagine my surprise when he picked me up and hugged me for a moment before setting me down gently on my feet.

"Spence, I'm sorry-" I began.

"It's ok, I promise, it's ok."

"I did the interview," I said slowly.

"I know. Why else would you have gone to see Hotch before we left?" He asked knowingly. "Listen, I understand why you had to do it alone. You were alone when it happened, and you had to be alone to retell it," He profiled.

"Just keeping you safe," I muttered.

He smiled and picked up his messenger bag, "Park?" He asked pleasantly. I smiled back and nodded, waving to the rest of the team as I followed him out.

"Checkmate in twelve," Spencer said, walking up behind Eric who was playing against himself in the park once more.

"No way," He laughed, stopping the clock.

"Let me show you," Spencer said, taking the seat across from Eric. The two resumed play and a small crowd of chess lovers formed around them. I watched intently, and wondered briefly if I should learn chess too. I pulled my hand out of my jeans pocket and glanced down at the scar. I was done hiding from this.


	75. Chapter 75

_Author's note: Thanks for all the awesome reviews you guys!_

My hand hesitated above the keyboard, "Err…. No," I said to myself, turning away from the computer once again. I had been in my room for the past hour since I'd seen an email from Roy Colson. He had sent an attachment which I had downloaded, and was now debating with myself on whether or not to read it. Spencer had been walking back and forth outside and knocking on the door every fifteen minutes.

"It's an article, Sara, just read it!" I muttered, turning back to the laptop. "An article about you," I said, walking away once more.

There was a knock on the door, "Sara, did you open it yet?" Spencer called through the wall again.

"Getting there," I shouted, glaring at the laptop on the bed. Finally I took a deep breath and clicked the 'open' button. I sat down on the bed and watched as the file loaded. It was a long article, which sent some panic through me. I tended to try and avoid attention as much as possible; the only articles that had been about me had been honor roll lists and scholarship notifications.

I scanned the article quickly, Roy had gotten all the facts correct, hadn't fixated on my injuries, and had talked about Hayley and Hotch as well as me. I was glad he didn't allow Hayley to be forgotten, she had been braver than I was. I reached the end of the article where Roy had been asking about how I felt when I was kidnapped.

_"It's not really thinking, it's just doing something. When you're in a place like that, you're almost too scared to be scared," Says Reid. I then moved on to some lighter questions, since I was dealing with a teenager after all. Sara is the half-sister of FBI agent Doctor Spencer Reid and I was curious about what it's like to have a family of FBI agents._

_"Well, you're definitely right when you called us a family; they're the best people I know. It's… really different, growing up with the FBI, it's scary, what with their jobs being so dangerous. But it's fun too, they have good stories to tell, and we have fun when the team isn't working or on a case, which is pretty much always."_

_ Finally, I asked Miss Reid about her future plans, "Well, I'm only fifteen so I'm not really sure of anything yet. But, I know I want to go to a good college and get good grades and everything. I think I might want a career in… if this doesn't sound predictable… the FBI, like my brother, maybe? I'm really not sure, maybe I'll just be a pirate!"_

I smiled as I finished reading and wrote a quick response to Roy, thanking him for the great article and telling him I'd be looking forward to seeing it in print. I hit send and picked up the laptop, walking out into the living room. Spencer looked up from his book as I entered and gave me a questioning look.

"Good? I mean the article, did you read it?" He asked quickly, glancing at the laptop. I nodded and set the computer on his lap, trading him for the book. He read it over in under a minute and smiled. "This is… very accurate," He said approvingly. I could see the concern still lingering in his eyes, but what I said in the article was probably the most I'd ever talked about how I felt during 'The Foyet Incident.'

"Spence, are you busy?" I asked as he closed the laptop.

He laughed a bit and set the laptop on the coffee table, "For you? The pirate? Never!" He said in surprise. "You know, unless I'm at work or on a case or…" He began to ramble.

"Ok, ok, can we go do something then?"

So Spencer and I called up Garcia who called up Derek and Emily who called JJ who called John. They met us at the ice cream shop, and in all we took up 3 tables. Emily, Spencer and I were in one booth while John, Derek, JJ and Garcia were in the one directly behind us. John and I finished our cones pretty quickly; we were both experts at eating soft serve before it melted. Spencer on the other hand was having some trouble, dripping ice cream all over the table.

John and I were chatting over the back of the benches we were seated at; I was trying to keep from laughing as I watched Derek glaring at John over his shoulder. Meanwhile Emily, JJ and Garcia were talking about a sale that Garcia had seen at one of the boutiques downtown. Another group walked into the parlor, doubling the volume in the building. Derek of course was used to it, considering some of his favorite places to go after work were the clubs… as I'd heard.

"Hey, want to go for a walk or something?" John asked, glancing cautiously at Spencer.

"Sure," I smiled, grabbing my bag. "Spencer, we're going for a stroll," I said, handing my brother another napkin. He grimaced as some sprinkles fell to the bench, barely missing his pant leg.

"Go ahead, we'll wait for you around here," Emily answered for Spencer, before he could protest. I smiled at her gratefully and waved goodbye to the group, Derek watched John and I leave, mouth agape, unsure of what to do. He looked like he wanted to chase after us and beat the living daylights out of John when he held the door open for me.

I rolled my eyes, unsure of why the agent would be angry about a teenage boy acting like a gentleman. We walked down the street, watching the people passing us, John looked pretty happy to put distance between himself and the two angry men that would be more than happy to kill him with his own glasses.

"So… I did the interview," I announced. "He, Roy Colson, sent it to me this morning. It's pretty good," I said awkwardly, my hands swinging at my sides.

John nodded, looking pensive. He pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose and looked down at me as we walked, "Yeah, Jennifer mentioned it to me," he muttered.

"You can, you could read it if you want," I offered.

He shrugged and ran a hand through his hair, making it a bit fluffier than it already was. He was always trying to make it look like David Tennant's or Liam Dryden's. "So, how'd you do on finals?" I asked.

"Pretty well, I did well in Science and History," He said casually.

"Pretty well? Those are your best subjects, what'd you get?" I asked, raising an eyebrow.

"90's," He said quietly, "What about you?"

"90's" I admitted, now he raised an eyebrow.

"And a hundred in History… and English," I murmured.

"There it is," He laughed, "The bashful genius of Sara Reid."

"Not a genius!" I snapped, shoving him in the arm lightly. I was surprised to notice that his arms were actually muscular, not at all like Derek's, but still firm.

He laughed and mock tripped, stumbling into a lamp-post. I giggled and he straightened up again with a grin on his face. "So, science then? I asked between laughing.

"Yeah, I liked the lab experiments."

"Really? Those were awful!" I disagreed.

"No! Those were cool!" He argued, shaking his head. I jumped a bit as his hand suddenly wrapped around mine and I blushed bright red.

"Um… whatcha' doing?" I asked, glancing up at him.

"I told you, I like experiments," He said casually, though his face was a light shade of pink. I smiled and nodded as we walked down the rest of the street, hand in hand. "So… what about the math final?" He asked suddenly.

I started laughing outright at that, and he quickly joined in, pulling my into a hug, "I'm… really glad you're alright," He whispered into my hair. "I'm really glad you're better now."

"Me too," I said softly, pulling away from him but leaving his hand around mine. We walked for another half an hour, chatting about the interview, and some gossip I'd heard from my friends and his search for a motorcycle.

We were within a block of the ice cream parlor and we could see the team seated outside, waiting for John and I to get back. He gave my hand a squeeze and let it go, taking a step away from me. "I'd rather not be choked to death," He said, nodding at Morgan and Spencer. I nodded in agreement and headed over to the group.

"Took you long enough, _Baby Reid_," Morgan said, standing up from his chair. Emily, JJ and Penelope were all wearing amused looks, eyeing me and John. Spencer was quite literally boring holes in John's skull.

"Yeah, sorry Derek," I pouted, hugging the profiler. "So, ready to go home?" I asked Spencer pleasantly.

"Very ready," He said sternly, still glaring at John.

"See you at work guys," I laughed, taking my brother by the arm and leading him away.


	76. Chapter 76

Spencer was seated at the edge of his bed, sorting through a large collection of mismatched socks while I was stationed at his closet, sifting through his limited wardrobe. After a lot of nagging I'd finally convinced Spencer to go on a date with Suzanne from the bookstore, after signing a confidentiality agreement of course, Spencer would kill me if Derek or the rest of the team found out that he had a date.

"Are you sure about this Sara?" He asked again, looking up from his pile of socks.

"79 percent sure," I responded, I'd been giving different variations of this answer for the past twenty minutes. Spencer sighed and put on a black and white striped sock with a green one and got up, joining me at the closet.

"Are you done yet?" He asked, looking at the reorganization of his closet.

"Almost, I sorted by work and time off clothes, I sorted those by season and I sorted those by color," I said, pointing to the different groupings of clothing.

"And how does that tell me what I'm wearing?" He asked, giving the 'new' wardrobe a scrutinizing look.

I sighed and rolled my eyes, "Where are you meeting her?"

"Squire's bar and restaurant at 7 o'clock," He answered.

"Ok, Squire's… I'm thinking jeans…" I said mostly to myself, tossing a pair at my brother over my shoulder, "And… this shirt," I pulled one of his more casual work shirts off a hanger and tossed it to him as well.

"What about my tie and sweater?" He asked, reaching past me.

"No!" I protested, blocking his way, "You're going out to a bar, no tie or sweater," I said, shutting the closet door. He pouted but turned away from the closet and went across the hall to the bathroom to change. I went over to the bed and started 'matching' up socks.

He returned a few minutes later with his shirt tucked in and buttoned all the way up. "Almost," I commented, tilting my head to the left a bit. "Here, let me help," I said, walking over to Spencer who was looking uncomfortable. "Un-tuck the shirt," I told him, which he did begrudgingly. I reached up and unbuttoned the top three shirt buttons, looked again and re-buttoned one, "Perfect."

"Perfect?" Spencer asked, turning to check himself in the mirror, giving a questioning look to the barely open shirt. I nodded approvingly and fiddled with his hair for a minute, he looked at me in mock-horror as I picked up a comb and started brushing his hair for him. "What are you doing?" He asked.

"You need a haircut," I chastised him.

Spencer looked back at the mirror and narrowed his eyes, "I look-"

"Good. You look very good Doctor Reid," I finished for him, smiling approvingly. He grimaced and walked out of the room, I followed behind him. "So, you excited?" I asked as I followed my brother down the hall.

"Excited for what?" He asked.

"Your date!" I reminded him, as if he could forget.

We sat down in our respective chairs by the coffee table, "Oh, um, yeah," He deadpanned.

We sat for another hour reading 'Pride and Prejudice' and 'The Biography of Winston Spencer Churchill,' I bet you can guess which one Spencer was reading. At 6:30 I went to the hall and grabbed a pair of Spencer's newer shoes and brought them to the living room. "Time for you to go," I announced, snatching the book out of his hands.

"Are you sure?" He asked nervously.

"810 percent," I confirmed, pulling him up from his chair.

"Oh, um alright. If you're sure you're alright staying by yourself-" He began to protest as I walked him to the door.

"I'm fine Spence, have a good time, eat, drink, flirt," I listed, opening the apartment door for him.

"Yeah, alright… I'll be back by 10," He said worriedly.

"I'm fine Spencer, bye!" I said happily, shutting the door in his face and locking both locks. I pressed my ear to the door until I heard his footsteps disappear down the hall. I smiled and returned to my seat, propping my feet up on the table.

I flipped channels for a while, checked my phone four times and read 9,851 more words in a book I found under the sofa- don't ask how I know how many words I read. I checked my email, posted 'I've found Lestrade's division' on Facebook and did a few push ups. Basically, I was bored. That was new. Throughout all of June and July I'd rarely been left alone with nothing to do. There was always something to do or something to stress about. I wasn't sure if I liked this 'bored' thing.

I texted John while painting my toenails, we had the following conversation:

_Hey _

_Hello –JL_

_Up to anything? –SR_

_Oh, not much, watching Sherlock on BBCA, you? –JL_

_Is that why we're putting initials on the end of every message? –SR_

_Yep. What about you? –JL_

_Bored. Big brother has a date! –SR_

_Really!? –JL_

_Wait no no you don't know that. Confidentiality agreement –SR_

_Sorry, what were we talking about? –JL_

_Exactly –SR_

At exactly 10 o'clock I heard the key in the door, there was a few minutes of hesitation and then the front door swung open and Spencer walked in. He carried with him the smell of sweat and beer, and he sat down heavily in his chair, putting his head back.

"Evening," I greeted.

"Hello," He said tiredly.

I scooted over to the couch so I was sitting almost directly next to him, "So… How'd it go?" I asked curiously.

"Um… fine. Suzanne is very nice, there was a college football team down the bar from us, they spilled alcohol all over the bar," He said with his eyes closed. I noted that barely a hair in his head was out-of-place, he hadn't been dancing, which is what the Squire's bar was known for. I'd heard enough stories from Emily to know that, and Derek had told me enough times to never go there when I turned 21 to know it was a fun place to hang out.

"So will you be seeing her again?" I asked.

"I… don't think so," He answered slowly.

"Oh, all right, but you had a good time?" I asked again.

He smiled and nodded before resting his head on the back of the chair again. "It's only ten, why are you so tired?" I asked.

"Loud bar. Very, very loud," He muttered, massaging his temples. I grinned and patted Spencer's head as I passed, heading toward my room.

"Goodnight Spencer," I laughed, shutting my door behind me. Spencer Reid fell asleep in the chair shortly afterword's, humming 'Hot Mess' by Cobra Starship as he dozed off.


	77. Chapter 77

_Author's note: Near the end of summer._

I was sitting in the conference room doing the last of my summer reading. This was probably the first time Hotch had actually encouraged me to be in the conference room, since today there were no disturbing images on the monitor, just the FBI logo.

There was a soft knock on the door, and I looked up from '12 Angry Men' to see Rossi standing in the entryway. "Mind if I join you?" The profiler asked. I smiled and gestured him to take the seat across from me.

"Hi Dave," I said happily as he sat down, opening one of the case folders I was so used to seeing. "What are you looking at?" I asked, folding the page in my book.

"Intern reports, kids from the academy applying to the BAU," He explained, turning the folder so I could see.

"I feel bad for this guy," I laughed, "His file's getting looked over by one of the BAU's 'founding members', I'm suprised you deemed him worthy enough to even have his file glanced at by you."

"I'm not that bad," He smirked, turning his attention back to the report. I returned to the New York courtroom in the play, beginning Act 2. "What do you think of this kid?" Rossi asked suddenly, sliding the folder across the table at me. I put down my book and opened the report, looking at the overview sheet at the front.

"What's the minimum GPA?" I asked after a few minutes.

"3.0," He said, watching me skim the file amusedly.

"3.4, he barely makes it," I muttered.

"3.4 _barely_ makes it?" Rossi asked. I shrugged and nodded, "And you think I'm tough?" Rossi laughed. "So what's the verdict?" He asked after a few minutes.

"Well, he meets all the qualifications, but I'm guessing that everyone you're looking at now meets them." Rossi nodded and I continued, "He's an undergraduate, so he's probably doing this to look at different opportunities. To get in the BAU you have to be competitive, he's taken communications and criminal justice classes. And he was on a baseball team, he did well too, so he's a team player which is important here. I think you should give him an interview," I concluded, passing the folder back to Rossi.

He nodded approvingly, "That's what I thought too." He went through the file again and marked some things down before picking up another file from the stack.

"Rossi, do you think I could make it?"

"Make what?" He asked, reading over the new file.

"Make it into the FBI," I clarified, leaning on my elbows.

Rossi thought for a moment, clasping his hands in front of his face. "You're an excellent shot, and with proper training you could easily pass your field qualifications. Every time you end up in the conference room you look away from the monitors, not because the images scare you, but because you feel like looking away is the right thing to do. You've been through a horrible experience, but you sympathized with the victims before that," He said, choosing his words carefully.

"So could I do it or not?" I asked, leaning forward slightly.

Rossi leaned in as well, looking me directly in the eyes, "I think you could do whatever you want to Miss Reid." I smiled gratefully and Rossi and I returned to our respective tasks, he occasionally would make a comment about majors or gun qualifications.

After another half hour or so of reading and muttering, Rossi shut the last of the files and looked up at me, "Why do you want to join the bureau?" He asked.

I closed the book and put it in my bag, "I'm really not sure, but I'm sure you can tell me," I smirked.

"What? You mean profile you?" He asked, looking amused. "Isn't that one of the most important rules, no profiling your family and friends?"

I shrugged, "One time permission," I granted, leaning back in my chair.

"Hmm… why does Sara Reid want to be an FBI agent? Your brother once told me that his way of getting back at your father is by earning PhDs, and I think your motivation comes from something along those lines," Rossi began, "You feel like you have something to prove, you want to be the best that you can to make sure it was worthwhile for Spencer to take you in."

I pursed my lips and thought for a moment, I'd never thought of it that way but it was actually very true. "At the same time, you're a very intelligent, practical person. Your mind needs work to do and seeing what we do is interesting to you. Since you got here you've asked about cases, going to see trials and learning better gun handling. You found that relating to what we do helped you fit in even more quickly. Lastly, you want your mother to be proud of you."

"You couldn't do anything to help her, and you have a very strong protective instinct, which is why you felt that it was your fault that she died for so long, and also why you react so strongly whenever the team is in danger. It's why you were so willing to… sacrifice yourself for Jack. It's in your nature to want to protect people. A job like ours was the logical conclusion," Rossi concluded, leaning back in his seat. "How'd I do?"

I thought for a moment, comparing my motivations for the things I'd done over the past year to what Rossi had said. "I think you did very well sir," I smiled, "But there is one thing you were mistaken on." Rossi raised his eyebrows, "You said that I took an interest in your work so I could fit in. That's not entirely true; I took an interest in this work because this team is made up of the bravest, kindest, best people I ever hope to know. And I want nothing more and nothing less than to be just like you guys."


	78. Chapter 78

_Author's note: Sorry it's been a few days, many apologies. This is from Episode 5x13- Risky Business. I would have updated yesterday but I was watching the CM premiere! Who else watched?_

_BANG_

_"_Five for five," I smirked, turning to Hotch and removing my ear muffs.

"You're good Reid, but not _that_ good," Hotch frowned, examining my target sheet. I grinned as I pointed to the bullet holes, all were perfect shots to the heart. The supervisory special agent had finally kept his promise and taken me shooting at the FBI gun range, thinking he could teach me something about shooting. He'd shown me a few methods and gone over the SWAT team's method of shooting, but after a warm up round I was just as good as before.

"And besides, I was showing you how to make _non-lethal shots_," He reminded me.

I stuck out my lower lip and replaced my ear muffs as Hotch sent the target away. He emptied a round into both of the target's shoulders and set down the gun, "Now you," He instructed. He loaded a new target sheet for me and I emptied my round into the shoulders as well, doing just as well as Hotch, none of the shots going wide.

"Well, I think that's enough for today," Hotch said, taking his gun back from me. "So, are you looking forward to school tomorrow?" He asked pleasantly.

"Yeah, I haven't seen any of my friends over the summer, other than John."

"John… LaMontagne?" Hotch asked, glancing over at me.

"Yeah, why?" I began to ask. _BANG, _Hotch fired into the target's stomach; I pressed my ear muffs hard against my head, surprised by the sudden gunshot. "What was that?" I yelled, pulling the ear muffs off.

"Sorry, had a bullet left," He said casually, replacing the gun in his holster. "Ready to leave?"

Hotch drove me back to my apartment, we chatted about my classes for the year and Jack starting school again. He made sure I got inside the building's front door before driving off. Spencer was fiddling with the laptop on the couch when I walked in, "Hey," He greeted.

"Hi," I replied, dropping my bag in the hall.

"How was shooting with Hotch?" He asked, shutting the laptop lid.

"Good, though he didn't seem pleased at my kill shot accuracy," I said, and dropped down next to Spencer on the couch, putting my legs across his lap so I could lounge.

"Did you miss many?" He asked, sounding confused.

"None," I smirked. I stretched, wiggling my toes. Spencer glanced down at my socks disapprovingly; I'd borrowed the blue anchor one even though I had to roll it up to keep it from sliding off my foot. "Mine now," I grinned, shaking the blue-anchored foot tauntingly.

"Mine," He declared, grabbing me by the ankle and tugging the sock off. The tugging of the sock tickled my foot and I started to giggle, attempting to tug my foot away which only encouraged my brother to keep his hold on my ankle. This went on for a few minutes until he finally wrestled the sock off my foot and stuffed it into the couch cushions. "Mine," He repeated, smiling triumphantly.

I crossed my arms over my chest, recovering from the giggling fit. "Meany Spencer Reid," I pouted.

Spencer rolled his eyes, "So, looking forward to classes?" He asked.

"Yeah, I get Chemistry this year, and there's going to be dances and stuff too."

"Dances?" Spencer asked worriedly.

"Yeah, like Homecoming and stuff."

"Oh… Homecoming, right," He muttered.

"Well, I'm going to take a shower and get my uniform out for tomorrow," I said, rolling off the couch and heading back to my room.

The next morning I was a little nervous, but my nerves were very improved since last year. As well, Spencer didn't have to force me to get up today, though I still got up very reluctantly. He even made pancakes which we had to eat in a hurry before he drove me to school.

Spencer parked the car halfway down the block from the front entrance, "Have a good day," He said, giving me a one-armed hug and handing me my backpack.

"Thanks Spence, see you later," I said, waving goodbye. He waved back and drove away from the school towards the FBI. I adjusted the bag on my shoulder and headed to the school door where a large group of students were congregated.

"Sara!" I heard someone shout. I turned to see Ali and Ellen rushing towards me. "Sara, we missed you!" Ellen said, giving me a hug.

"Yeah, we haven't seen you all summer!" Ali added, giving me a hug in turn.

"I know! Sorry guys, I missed you too," I said, keeping my scarred hand wrapped firmly around the strap of my backpack. The only person at school who knew what had happened with Foyet was John, and that was only because JJ had told him. "So, where's Katie?" I asked, looking around through the sea of students.

"Um, she's coming later I think," Said Ali, glancing down at her phone.

"Well, look who it is," Ellen said sarcastically, gesturing towards the door. I looked up and saw Krystal, hand in hand with Alex. I had to hold back a laugh; Krystal's skin was nearly orange from spray tanning.

"That's terrible," I giggled.

"I bet she's saying it's natural too, that's what she told everyone last year," Said Ali, rolling her eyes. The bell rang loudly and the three of us were shoved into the school by the crowd of students. I made my way upstairs and located my new locker. I set up the flimsy locker shelves and shoved all the binders and book covers inside before going to find my homeroom, which happened to be in English.

I walked to my seat in the back and sat down next to John (of course) and smiled. "Hi," He greeted me cheerfully, adjusting his glasses.

"Morning," I said, looking around the room. To my dismay, Krystal and Alex walked in and sat in the seats ahead of John and I.

"Uh, why do we have homeroom here and then have to go all the way to Earth Science?" I heard her complain, "It's going to take so freaking long to get anywhere!" I smirked, if she thought going 'all the way to Earth Science' was hard, I couldn't wait to watch her run to gym every week.

Mr. Galvano walked into class carrying a can of pop, set it on his desk and looked at the class. He sat for a few moments, him staring at us and the class staring back, this had been the usual routine all of last year. Finally he cleared his throat and picked up a pile of papers, "Pass these back," He instructed, handing out smaller piles to everyone in the front row.

The stack reached Krystal and I stuck out my hand for a paper. Her now orange face turned to look at me as she handed me a sheet. I waited expectantly, hand outstretched, but no paper landed in it. "What the heck is that?" She asked loudly, staring at my scar. "That's new, where'd that come from?" She asked again, Alex turned to look as well.

"It's nothing that concerns you, but thanks for your concern. Now can I have a paper?" I asked, pulling my right hand away quickly and sticking out the left instead. Krystal sneered at me and obliged, turning back around in her seat.

I inwardly cursed myself for forgetting the scar so easily, and of all people to slip up in front of it had to be Krystal. The bell rang and she quickly exited the class with Alex. "Welcome to eleventh grade English," Said Mr. Galvano unenthusiastically. I could feel John's eyes watching me nervously, and I swore to keep my hand out of sight for the rest of the day.


	79. Chapter 79

_Author's note: Episode 5x13 Risky Business continued._

Three classes and two 'getting to know each other (again)' activities later the bell rang releasing the sophomores and juniors for lunch. I sat down at my usual table with Ali and started to eat, I could see Ellen in the lunch line chatting with one of the girl volley ball team members who usually sat at Krystal's table. I wondered mildly what they were talking about, since at this high school the hub of gossip was the girls volley ball team. I spotted John towards the back of the line, talking to some of his friends from soccer.

Ali and I were talking about how weird Mr. Galvano looked with a mustache (it was the smallest handlebar mustache we'd ever seen) when Ellen rushed over to the table with her lunch tray, looking concerned. "What's the matter, lunch lady spit in your food?" I asked.

"Um, I was just talking to Jen, um, Sara there's something you might want to hear," She mumbled, scooting her chair close to mine.

"What? What's the matter?" I asked, my face paling.

"Uh, Jen was sitting with Krystal last period and she was saying something about you."

"What was she saying?" I demanded, clenching my right hand.

"She… she saw this scar on your hand… she's saying you cut yourself over the summer… and Alex was telling someone else you tried to kill yourself, that you've got cuts all over your arms…" She whispered, glancing at my crossed arms.

My mouth dropped open and I whipped my head around, searching for Krystal. "It's not true, right? I mean of course it's not true," Ali said quickly, glancing down as well.

"No! No of course it's not true! Look for yourselves!" I said loudly, holding out my arms for them to inspect but keeping my palms down on the table.

"Oh course she was lying, she'd do anything for attention," Ellen said, glaring at Krystal's table just as John joined us at the table.

"What's wrong?" He asked, setting his tray down and scrutinizing my expression. Ellen glanced at me and the quickly related what she had told me to John. His face went red almost instantly, and he stood up straighter than before. He picked up a folder and pulled out a newspaper clipping before storming over to Krystal and Alex's table.

"Oh, gosh, what's he doing?" I said nervously, standing up from the table. A moment later I heard shouting coming from the other table, John was hunched over, holding onto the table edge in a white-knuckled grip. The entire cafeteria went quiet and the shouting got clearer. One of the teachers rushed over and grabbed John by the shoulder, John snatched the newspaper back from Alex and was marched back to our table.

"Can we see you all in the office?" The teacher asked, releasing John from his grip.

"Sure," I said, picking up my bag. We passed Krystal and Alex's table, the group seated around it ranged from red-faced anger to near-tears. The teacher motioned for them to follow and Krystal and Alex followed the group of us reluctantly and we marched to the office amidst the stares of the other students.

Krystal and Alex sat down on one end of the administrative hallway and John, Ali, Ellen and I at the other. The vice principal stepped out of her office a minute later, "Sara, can I speak to you in here?" She asked politely. I nodded and followed her inside, I caught a glance at Krystal glaring at my back.

Mrs. Brown sat down behind her desk and motioned for me to take the seat across from her, "Alright Sara, could you tell me what happened?" She asked, clasping her hands on the desk.

"Well, Ellen found out about a really… nasty rumor Krystal and Alex were spreading about me, and John found out and got really mad. Krystal saw a scar on my hand this morning and apparently, she ran with it," I explained.

"And what did she say?" Mrs. Brown asked.

"That I was cutting myself over the summer," I mumbled.

"But that's not true," She stated.

"No, my brother or any of the agents he works with can tell you what happened," I said.

Mrs. Brown nodded and stood up, "Alright, could you call Mr. LaMontagne in please? And Miss Bell and Miss Rowland can be dismissed," She said. I nodded, picked up my bag and stepped out of the office, nodding to John.

"Sorry for getting you in trouble," He whispered, pausing in the doorway.

"Thanks for sticking up for me," I replied, smiling a little.

"You don't have to let them make you feel ashamed, you're a hero Sara. I'll get this sorted," He promised, and stepped into the office, the door swinging shut behind him. I sighed and walked back over to Ali and Ellen.

"She said you guys can go," I said, sitting down beside them.

"What about you?" Ellen asked, glancing down the hall at Krystal and Alex.

"I'll wait here," I told them.

"We'll wait too if you want," said Ellen, Ali nodded in agreement.

"No thanks guys, that's ok," I assured them and my friends stood up.

"Well, good luck," Ali said, and she and Ellen walked out of the hall.

I sat in the hall, bouncing my leg anxiously for about ten minutes before the office door opened again and Mrs. Brown stepped out behind John. "Krystal, Alex," She said sternly, reminding me briefly of Hotch. The two got up and trudged into the office slowly, glaring at John and I as they passed. The door shut behind them and I immediately wrapped John in a hug.

"How'd it go?" I asked, releasing him.

"It was fine, I showed her the article and she let me go," He said, sounding relieved.

"Thank you for what you did, I really appreciate it," I said, picking up my bag.

"Anything for you, I couldn't let them get away with doing something like that" He said, smiling. I smiled back and nodded, "think they'll let us finish lunch?" He asked.

"I hope so."

I got home at the end of the day to find Spencer and the team gone, even Garcia. I curled up on the couch and had myself a cry, but still with a feeling of relief. Alex and Krystal had in-school suspension on Monday and got a week's worth of detention. John got off with a warning to keep his temper in check and didn't get in any trouble.

The team was back on Saturday afternoon and I took the bus to greet them. Emily was playing with several wooden pieces at her desk and everyone else was working on paperwork again. I walked over to Spencer's desk, he looked up like he was startled, it seemed that no one had noticed me arrive. "Sara, hi," He greeted me, rising from his desk and giving me a hug.

"Hey little Reid," Morgan called rising as well.

"Did the school call you?" I mumbled.

"Yeah," said Spencer, "I'm sorry that happened, I should have called them..."

"Hey everybody," someone called. Everyone looked up at Will who was standing in the doorway of the BAU, John just behind him. John looked terrified, glancing back and forth between Spencer, Morgan, Rossi and Hotch who had just emerged from his office. He brushed back his hair nervously and stepped inside with Will.

"LaMontagnes, what are you guys doing here?" I asked, approaching the two men.

"JJ said that the guys wanted to see John," Will explained, patting John on the shoulder, "Gentlemen," He added, nodding to the male profilers.

Hotch joined the rest of us in the bull-pen and waved John over, his expression stern. I took him by the arm and pulled him over to the group, much to the obvious displeasure of Derek and Spencer. "John," Hotch greeted him, Rossi, Spencer and Morgan stepping over to us. I kept my arm linked with his, sensing his desire to run away from the three intimidating men, and Spencer, though that's who he seemed the most afraid of.

"The school administrators told us what happened," Morgan said, crossing his arms across his chest.

Then something surprising happened, the stern façade faded from the group almost instantly, "We personally wanted to thank you for looking after our Princess," Said Rossi, clapping a hand on John's shoulder. I blushed at the nickname and felt John flinch as Rossi's hand made contact with his arm.

"Yeah," Spencer agreed, though his eyes were firmly fixed on our linked arms.

John cleared his throat nervously, "It was no trouble, sirs," He said. Spencer stepped forward, hand outstretched. John had to release my arm to shake his hand, causing the group of men to look slightly pleased.


	80. Chapter 80

_Author's note: To a guest reviewer- yes I plan to do a homecoming chapter, and thanks for reviewing!_

It was quiet as my friends read over the article I'd sent to them all, we were on a group video chat that Sunday and I had been explaining what had happened over the summer for the past hour. Spencer had essentially been banished from the apartment, my excuse being that we were out of milk, eggs and cookies.

"Why didn't you tell us?" Ellen asked after a few minutes.

"I'm sorry," I repeated for the eighth time.

"We would have been there for you," Katie said, looking very upset. I was glad they'd allowed me to do this over video chat, it was hard enough looking at three angry faces on a screen, I doubted I could have made it through if they were all in the same room with me.

"I know you would have guys. I just didn't think you needed to deal with that," I said.

"But we're your friends," Said Ali angrily.

"I know, you're the best friends," I said.

"You told John!" Said Ellen adjusting her webcam, causing the picture to shake.

"No I didn't, JJ did. I didn't plan on telling anyone until I had to," I said, getting frustrated.

"And when would you have 'had to?' Asked Ali.

"I… I don't know. I just wanted to stop bringing attention to it, ok?" I said, glancing at the article next to my laptop.

"Can we see it? The scar I mean," Katie asked hesitantly. I nodded and held up my hand, even on the webcam it was still very obvious.

"Wow," Said Ellen, leaning closer to her computer monitor.

I put my hand down, "That's basically it," I said, wanting the conversation to be over.

"Well, thanks for telling us," Ellen said, my friends nodded.

"Again, I am sorry for not telling you guys," I said apologetically.

"It's ok," Ali deadpanned. We said goodbye and everyone clicked out of the chat one at a time. I shut the laptop lid and leaned back in my desk chair and blew out a heavy breath. I wiped my glasses off on my shirt and replaced them on my face. When my vision focused my eyes landed on a photo of me and my mother.

"What do you think of this Mom?" I asked aloud, drumming my fingers on the desk. I glanced around and spotted a photo of me and Emily. I got up and went to the apartment entryway and scribbled out a note for Spencer- '_I'm going to visit Emily, call me when you get this –Sara.'_ I grabbed a sweater and my bag from the pile of stuff on the floor and ran down to the bus stop.

Half an hour later my phone went off just as the bus pulled up to my stop. "Hey Spence," I answered.

"Hi, where are you?" He asked worriedly.

"Just getting off the bus, I can literally see her apartment building," I assured him, beginning my walk down Emily's street.

"Alright, call me when you want to come home," He sighed.

"Thanks Spencer, bye," I said, shutting the phone and replacing it in my pocket. I entered the building's lobby and jogged up to the fifth floor apartment, I could see the FBI building from the window. I stopped to look for a moment; I could see the beacons on top of the buildings that would blink away all night, protecting them from planes.

I went down the hall and located 5C and knocked on the door. It was a nice building that Emily lived in, I could tell even from the halls, no cracks in the walls and shiny hardwood floors. "Hello?" Emily said, pulling open the door. Her dark hair was pulled back today and she was wearing casual clothing.

"Hi, is this a bad time?" I asked, realizing that I hadn't called ahead.

"No, no, come in," She smiled, opening the door wider for me to pass through. The hardwood flooring continued into the apartment and I kicked off my shoes.

"Sorry for showing up unannounced," I apologized, glancing around the apartment. The walls in the front hall were white but the rest of the apartment was a red-orange color. There was a decently sized kitchen, larger than Spencer's, and a staircase to the right.

"Oh that's alright, you and Hotch have that in common," She laughed. I gave her a questioning look, "When I tried to quit the BAU a few years ago Hotch came to bring me on a case," She explained, waving me off.

I nodded and sat down at one of the stools that lined the kitchen counter, "Want something to eat or drink? I have snacks," Emily offered, her hand on the refrigerator door handle.

"No, thanks," I said. She nodded and walked around the counter, taking the seat next to me.

"So, what's up Sara?" She asked.

"I um, told my friends about what happened over the summer," I said, swiveling the stool back and forth.

"And how'd that go?" She asked. I sighed and put my head down on the counter, "That bad?" She asked humorously. Emily reached out and put a hand on my shoulder, "Hey, come on what's the matter?"

"I feel like I've let them down," I said quietly, sitting up again.

"Your friends?"

I nodded, "I didn't tell them what happened and now I think they feel like I don't trust them."

"Do you trust them?"

I looked up at Emily in surprise, "What? Of course! They're my friends… I just don't want to burden them with _my _problems."

"Sometimes you can't handle your problems all alone; the people who care about you will always share the load."

"Yeah, that's why I have you guys," I sighed.

"You know that we're not always going to be around," Emily said tiredly.

"I know, but no time soon," I insisted.

Emily shrugged, "Either way, you need to learn to depend on other people. Your friends will get over it, they'll understand eventually," She assured me.

"You're sure?" I asked.

Emily smiled, "Positive."

"Thanks Emily," I said, smiling back.

Emily nodded and stood up, brushing off her pant legs, "So, you want to watch some TV or something? I was just going to have some popcorn, maybe watch Mean Girls," She laughed, returning to the kitchen.

"Sure, I'd like that," I grinned, jumping up from the stool. So for the next two hours Emily and I sat on her apartment couch and watched the acting talents of Lindsey Lohan and Rachael McAdams attempt to destroy each other on her TV screen. We shared a big bowl of popcorn and chatted about my friends and Krystal and Alex and John, and for a very short time, it almost felt like I had a mom again.


	81. Chapter 81

_Author's note: A chapter all about the lovely John LaMontagne, takes place the same Sunday as the previous chapter where Sara goes to visit Prentiss. Thanks for all the reviews once again, if you're not tired of hearing that..._

John LaMontagne crawled up onto his couch tiredly and tossed his cell phone to the opposite end, where it disappeared among the cushions. He stretched, knocking his glasses askew as his arm passed by his face; he quickly adjusted them and reached for the television remote.

He'd just finished mowing the front lawn and was savoring the scent of freshly cut grass that filtered in through the window as he scrolled through the channels. "John?" His mother called from upstairs.

"Yeah Mom?" He answered, not changing his position on the couch.

"I'm going out to the store, do you need anything?" She asked, appearing in the living room doorway.

"No thanks," He answered, glancing away from the screen.

"Why is that window open it's absolutely freezing," Mom exclaimed, crossing the room and closing the window. Miss LaMontagne hadn't adjusted well to the cooler climate of Virginia, but still preferred the weather here than to that of New Orleans. "I'll be back in an hour," She said, ruffling her son's hair as she passed.

As soon as the doting woman left the room John immediately restored his hair to its original form, he never understood why people loved to mess up his hair- Mom, Will, his friends from the soccer team, and Sara Reid.

He smiled a bit at the thought of his friend. His smart, funny, pretty friend. He finally dropped the remote control at the side of the couch, deciding on an episode of Star Trek. Sara had told him multiple times what a huge Trekkie her brother was, and that he and Spencer would 'get along great.' She was probably right; he and the FBI agent might get along well if not for the well established fact that the elder Reid hated him.

At first glance Doctor Spencer Reid was relatively unintimidating, especially when compared to the other agents Sara liked so much, Derek, Uncle Dave and Hotch as she affectionately referred to them. But of the four, Spencer was probably the most likely to go insane if ever he got anywhere close to Sara. The guy was a genius and licensed to carry a gun, not to mention the girl's older brother _and _guardian, a pretty scary thing for a sixteen year old to face.

The episode he had chosen to watch was largely centered around Data, the android lieutenant commander on the Enterprise. The character reminded him vaguely of the Reid's; they both had above average intelligence and were both slightly awkward, though he would never think to point it out. Sara in particular seemed ecstatic at the chance to learn something new; he'd actually seen her skipping in the halls on the way to class.

The house phone on the coffee table rang loudly, breaking John's train of thought. The caller ID showed 'David Michaels,' his dad. John's Mom and Dad had divorced when he was young; Mom had full custody of him and joint custody of his two brothers, David Jr. who was now a Marine, and Anthony who was currently studying at a University in Seattle. Dad was remarried and still living in Louisiana. His parents had stayed very good friends while they lived in New Orleans after the divorce, and his brothers had told John frequently how lucky they were for that.

"Hello," John answered, putting the TV on mute.

"Hey John? How's my favorite?" His Dad asked laughing. John smirked; it was a running joke for Dad to call each of his sons 'The Favorite.'

"Pretty well sir, how's Tami?" He asked of his father's wife of four years.

"She's doing well, I'll tell her you asked. And how's school?"

"Good," He said, flexing his toes.

"Get in any fights?" His Dad asked.

"Just one."

"That's my boy, what about?"

"I was standing up for my one friend to these jerks," He explained, his Dad was never very serious and wasn't concerned whether the fight was real or not.

"Why couldn't your friend stand up for himself?" Said Dad.

"Herself, this was a girl friend Dad, not one of the soccer guys," He clarified.

"A girlfriend? Tami, John's got himself a girl!" His Dad called to someone.

"No, no Dad, not a girlfriend. I'm talking about Sara, Sara Reid," He said quickly.

"Oh, the one from the article. Alright," Said Dad slowly, some doubt in his voice. "Well, tell your Mom I said hello, we're just heading out for lunch."

"Bye Dad," Said John.

"Bye son, we miss you down here. Oh, one more thing, David's been asking about coming to visit you two when he's on leave, would that be alright?"

"Yeah, that'd be great!" John said happily, he hadn't seen his eldest brother in over a year.

"Great, I'll tell him. Alright, bye now." John hung up the phone and replaced it on the coffee table, already looking forward to David's visit. While he and Tony had been rivals in their childhood, he and David had been the best of friends, he couldn't wait to hear his Marine Corps stories again.

The phrase 'girlfriend' drifted back into John's mind as he turned the volume on the TV back up to its original setting, much louder than his mother would like if she were home. Girlfriend. That was an interesting and frustrating thought, one that had crossed his mind more than once. But he didn't even know if Sara liked him for sure. I mean, she had let him hold her hand once, hugged him often and talked to him all the time, but they were good friends. They had a lot in common and were friends, was that all she saw in him, a friend?

John ran a hand through his hair; he liked the girl a lot. But did she like him? Now that was the question. He heard his cell phone vibrate under the last couch cushion and he reluctantly sat up to retrieve it from its hiding place. _I told them what happened over the summer. Things might be awkward at lunch, fair warning. –SR, _it read.

John sighed; it made him sick to think of what had happened to her, what made it worse was the rumors that Krystal and Alex had tried to start over it. If things would be awkward in lunch, the girls must not have taken the news too well. Ellen, Ali and Katie were nice, some of Sara's best friends, John was sure they'd get over the withheld information pretty quickly. And of course if they didn't, Sara Reid would always have her John LaMontagne to look after her. John stretched back out on the cushions with a satisfied grin and began another episode of Star Trek.


	82. Chapter 82

_Author's note: After ep 5x14. _

It had been two weeks since the situation with Krystal and Alex. The two had split up soon afterword and there had been a lot of glaring for everyone involved. Ellen had been the first to forgive me, shortly followed by Katie and then Ali, though she had told me outright that she never would understand why I didn't tell them. John had been giddy all week, anticipating the arrival of his brother David from Louisiana.

Spencer walked into the living room and sat down next to me on the couch where I was immersed in Bram Stoker's 'Dracula,' after all, it was barely a month until Halloween and I'd learned from the team that Spencer was an avid fan of the holiday. Spencer glanced over my shoulder, reading the entire page that I was on in a few seconds.

"What's up?" I asked, turning the page.

"Nothing really, just reading," He said casually, looking over my shoulder again.

"Yeah… Could you not do that actually, it makes me feel like I have to read faster to keep up," I said, finishing another page.

"400," He mumbled.

"Excuse me?" I asked, looking up from the story.

"You're up to nearly 400 words per minute," Spencer said nonchalantly, putting his feet up on the coffee table to reveal Halloween themed socks. I wondered if he had enough to go the entire month without wearing the same ones together.

"You timed me?" I asked, setting the book on my lap and brushing my hair from my face.

"Um… yeah," He said, suddenly looking guilty.

I smirked, "You're weird," I muttered, and turned back to Jonathan Harker's journal of his travel to Transylvania. Spencer grabbed his book from the coffee table and began reading as well, I didn't recognize the title, most likely because it was in Russian.

Spencer's pager went off about a half hour later, "Oh no, they can't be calling you in today!" I said, tossing my book back at the coffee table. Spencer shrugged and picked up the device.

"It's… from Garcia… hang on," He said, reaching for his phone. A moment later she answered, "Hi Garcia it's Reid, did you just page me?... Um, what?... Oh, alright… No she didn't… That's next weekend?... Alright, thanks…" Spencer hung up and turned to me, "Garcia says that your homecoming dance is this week… you wouldn't happen to have a dress, would you?" He asked awkwardly.

"No, I was going to ask someone to take me last week, but you were on a case," I shrugged.

"Well she and Emily are meeting us at the mall in a half hour," He announced, looking almost squeamish at the idea.

"We? Spencer you don't have to come if you don't want," I assured him.

He glanced longingly at his book before answering, "No, it will be… fun?"

"Oh, um, alright," I grinned, hopping up from the couch.

Twenty-eight minutes later Spencer and I were wandering the mall food court, looking for the two FBI agents. "Reids!" Someone called. We turned and saw Garcia, Emily and JJ approaching us.

"JJ!" I exclaimed, rushing over to the group, "I didn't know you were coming."

"Well, Henry and Will are having a 'boy's day' so I decided to tag along," She explained.

"Aww, that's cute, how's my god-nephew?" I asked.

"Great, thanks for asking, it's been a battle keeping him off the stairs this week."

"Reid, are you planning on shopping with us?" Emily asked, looking over my shoulder to my brother who was rocking back and forth uncomfortably on his heels.

"What? Oh, I guess," He said, blushing slightly.

"Well then, let's go," Garcia said enthusiastically, pulling me by the arm into the nearest store.

"Oh, how about a strapless! Pixie has such nice shoulders," Garcia suggested. The ladies were having a field day rifling through the racks of dresses while Spencer and I were sitting on a bench by the dressing room.

"She does, but they're no fun for dancing," Emily said.

"What about a one shoulder?" JJ suggested, pointing to further down the row.

"Pixie," Garcia called, I stood up and obediently carted six more dresses into the changing room, I'd been instructed to try on and model each dress for the group, no exceptions. The first of this batch was a dark purple strapless dress with a lot of meshy-type stuff in the skirt that I couldn't quite identify.

"Oh, I like this one," JJ said as I stepped out of the dressing room.

"It's too short," Spencer said quickly, frowning at the puffy skirt.

"And this stuff itches," I said, pointing to the mesh.

"It's called tulle, Pixie," Garcia said, "I like the color of this one," She added.

"Next," Emily commanded. I nodded and returned to my cubicle of dresses.

The next was a cuffed-shoulder red dress with some beading around the neckline and waist. This one was comfortable enough, but the beads made a small clicking sound when I walked.

"Gorgeous darling," Garcia announced, pointing to the dress as I stepped out once again.

"It's low… in the front," Spencer said uncomfortably.

"Posh-posh Spencer, she's a teenager," Garcia argued.

"Another please," JJ requested, Emily giving me a sympathetic look.

The next of the many dresses was black, a one shoulder and shimmered in the bodice. There were white embroidered designs along the bottom of the skirt. It was relatively form-fitted by allowed room for movement.

"How's this?" I asked nervously, stepping into out of the room once again.

"That's so pretty!" JJ exclaimed.

"Definitely Pixie, lovely!" Garcia agreed.

"I like this one," Emily said approvingly.

The four of turned almost simultaneously to Spencer, I had tried on a total of eleven dresses so far and with each one Spencer had some kind of complaint, ranging from 'the length is bad' to 'the color looks weird with her skin.'

"It's a nice dress… you look pretty Sara," Spencer smiled.

I smiled back brightly, "Thanks, so this one then?" I asked.

"Well what do you think?" Emily asked.

I was suddenly taken aback, "Um, yeah, I like this one," I nodded.

"You really do look great," She assured me.

"Ok, I'll get this one. I'm going to go change," I said, heading back to the changing room. I shut the door quickly and looked myself over in the mirror and smiled happily, twirling so that the skirt flared out like a princess dress.


	83. Chapter 83

Homecoming week was probably the most fun I'd had at school in my entire life. Monday was called 'Class Competition' and the freshman, sophomores, juniors and seniors competed in tug-of-war, dodge ball and obstacle courses in the gym. John had become the junior class hero by winning the dodge ball game by himself when the rest of the team had been hit.

Tuesday was the walk-a-thon, where the entire school walks ten miles as a school fundraiser. That day was a half day which was fortunate because everyone's feet were blistered and sore by the end. Also, walking under scary bridges when cars drive over them is not fun at all.

Wednesday was the powder-puff game, the junior and senior class girls compete in a game of flag football out on the football field. That was when I was introduced to David Jr. who had come to enjoy the game. Ellen, Katie, Ali and I must have looked like some sort of reverse secret service, surrounding the young man in his white Marine hat on the school bleachers. David looked almost exactly like John, but he didn't wear glasses, was a few inches taller and had a short military hair cut, as opposed to John's longer fluffy hair.

Thursday was the motor-cade; the seniors decorated their cars and paraded down the street in front of the school. They were all equipped with air horns and silly string and were having a lot of fun whipping candy at the underclassmen.

Friday was the pep rally and homecoming game. The cheer leaders did three separate cheers which involved a lot of shouting, and all the members of the different sport teams got to run through a fancy arch which had been built in the center of the gym. I ended up skipping the homecoming game since it was raining, but my school, 'The Wolverines' won.

So when Saturday rolled around I was relatively exhausted and slept until about noon. When I woke up I wandered about the apartment and drank some milk, rubbing the sleep out of my eyes. I painted my nails silver, only getting a little nail polish on the couch (don't tell Spencer) and then went to take a shower. My brother was already staked out in his room, I'd warned him that I'd probably be running around semi-dressed most of the day while I got ready for the dance which started at 7.

I put on a t-shirt and shorts and went back to the living room while me hair dried, "Spencer, you can come out for now if you want," I called, tucking up my damp hair against the couch so it wouldn't drip down my back.

Spencer walked into the room slowly, brushing his hair back from his face, still wearing his pajamas. "Morning Sunshine," He yawned, dropping down onto the couch beside me.

"Morning," I replied, looking him over. Spencer looked incredibly tired, the dark circles under his eyes I'd become accustomed to were more pronounced today. "How'd you sleep?" I asked worriedly.

"Not too well, I had a little headache," He mumbled.

"Do you feel better now?" I asked.

"Yeah, thanks," He said quickly.

"Alright," I said, not convinced.

"So, are you excited for later?" Spencer asked, changing the subject.

"Yeah, kind of nervous though, nervous-excited I mean."

"Oh, alright, can I do anything to help you get ready?" He asked.

So a few hours later Spencer was helping me to blow-dry my hair, find the hair straighter, and the makeup I'd left in my purse. By 6 o'clock I was just finishing my makeup; I'd been applying and re-applying eyeliner and mascara for about a half hour even though Emily had shown me how the day before. Finally I put on my dress, taking extra time doing up the little buttons along the back and to smooth out the skirt.

I looked up, hearing a sudden crashing sound coming from the kitchen. "Spencer? You ok?" I yelled through the bathroom door.

"Yeah, everything's fine!" He shouted back.

I shrugged and went back to my primping. I sighed and spun in front of the mirror, satisfied with the result. "How do I look Mom?" I murmured, brushing my fringe off to the side. I took a breath and opened the door into the hall and walked into the living room.

"Spencer what was the noise from-" I started to ask, but cut myself with surprise as I noticed Rossi, Morgan and Hotch seated in the living room. "Oh, hi guys," I greeted them nervously, shocked to see the three profilers.

Morgan stood up and let out a loud whistle, causing me to blush harder than I already was, "Whoa Baby-Reid, no way you're going out like that!" He laughed, looking me over head to toe.

"How do I look guys?" I asked, turning slowly on my heels in the center of the room.

"You look… very mature," Hotch complimented me awkwardly, most likely a first for him. By now he was probably very grateful he didn't have any actual daughters to deal with.

"I think she looks nice," Rossi said casually, smiling beneath his moustache.

"Thank you 'Uncle Dave'," I said sweetly.

Spencer was leaned up against the kitchen counter, looking at me thoughtfully and holding the camera Garcia had given him over a year ago. "Can you please put your pajamas back on instead?" He moaned, looking deeply concerned with my makeup and dress wearing self. Based on all of their reactions, Rossi appeared to be the only one that had noticed I wasn't a little girl until now.

Hotch, who was still in his suit was sitting on the couch, still looking me over in the corner of his eye, debating whether to compliment me or lock me back in my room until I was 30. Spencer was snapping a few pictures here and there, mumbling about Garcia putting them on Facebook. His phone beeped next to him, "Sara, Garcia wants you to pose," He read, waving the camera at me.

"Alright…" I said, allowing him to take several more pictures of me at various angles.

"Glasses, you are not allowed to look this grown-up yet," Morgan said in disbelief. I laughed and he reached for my hand, dancing me around the coffee table as Hotch and Rossi looked on in amusement. This went on for about three minutes, Spencer's camera flash going off about 400 times.

Eventually Spencer broke into Morgan and I's dancing, "Alright, we have to go now if you don't want to be late," He interrupted. Morgan released me and I walked over to Spencer in the kitchen.

"Alright… are you guys planning on staying the whole time?" I asked, looking over at the profilers who were still in the living room.

"Yeah, there's a Bond marathon on, we'll wait for you to get back," Morgan said, putting his feet on the coffee table and reaching for the remote.

"Ok then, bye," I waved, grabbing my coat from the kitchen counter.

"Bye, have a good time," Rossi said. I smiled and followed Spencer out of the apartment and down into the hall.


	84. Chapter 84

_Author's Note: One part of The Homecoming Dance, more should be up tomorrow or the day after. I've been planning that bit for quite awhile so sorry if this part is a little rushed. As always thanks so much for reviewing, I really appreciate it. Also, to 'FutureFBI', I love the name you picked, thanks a lot for the kind reviews, I'm so glad you like it! _

"Ok, I'll be here at 11, but I can come pick you up before that if you want. Um… don't leave any drinks unattended, don't talk to people acting strangely, only dance with your friends-" My brother rambled nervously.

"Spence, where exactly do you think I'm going, one of Derek's nightclubs?" I asked. Spencer had been going on like this for several minutes. We were parked in the school parking lot and I was anxiously watching groups of students pass by the car on their way inside.

"Oh, sorry," He said, sounding embarrassed.

"It's fine, so see you at 11?" I asked, my hand on the door handle.

"Alright, and you have your phone, right?" He asked again.

"Yeah I do, it's in my bag. Bye Spencer," I said hurriedly.

"Oh, ok, bye," He responded, starting the car again. I ran a hand over my hair and slipped out of the car before Spencer could think of something else to warn me about. I waved goodbye through the window and started across the parking lot to the school's back entrance.

There was a table set up in the middle of the school hallway manned by my Spanish teacher, Miss Bell, and the Science teacher, Mr. Tyler. I traded them $7 for an 'Abagnale High School' keychain and admittance to the gym- the same gym I had spent over a year trying to avoid on a weekly basis- but oh well.

I waited by the stairs for Ellen and Katie, Ali had decided not to go to homecoming this year. I saw Krystal walk by with her crowd usual crowd of soccer players and cheerleaders; the girl was a walking stereotype. She didn't notice me standing there, which was fortunate. I noted that Alex wasn't among the crowd, at the same time wondering if her dress could possibly be any shorter. Spencer might say that she was 'looking to attract a new mate' in animal terms. He would then have gone on to explain how some arachnids devour their husbands or something.

"Bored yet?" Someone muttered. I resisted the instinct to flinch at the sudden voice and looked up, Alex was standing beside me.

"Um, not really. Just waiting for my friends…" I said uncomfortably.

"What, I'm not your friend anymore?" He sneered, leaning against the stair rail.

"No, not really, Alex. Sorry," I said coolly, glancing down at my phone.

"Huh, your loss. See you later," He grinned, walking away towards the gym.

"I certainly hope not," I muttered, looking around hopefully for my friends. Finally I spotted Ellen and Katie, who was escorted by Andrew, at the check-in table and breathed a sigh of relief. "Hey guys!" I called. The three looked up and waved, then finished writing down their names and a parent-and-or-guardian's phone number before walking over to me.

"Hi! Oh my gosh I love your dress!" Katie gushed, she'd been in a constant state of giddiness since she and Andrew had gotten back together.

"Hi, thanks, I like yours too!" I replied, giving her and Ellen hugs.

Andrew glanced down at his phone, "Johnny says he's already inside, you all wanna head in?" He asked, nodding towards the gym.

"Alright," Katie smiled, linking arms with her date. The four of us pushed open the doors to the gymnasium and walked inside. We had to duck through some kind of winding maze made of cardboard and trash bag material that had been set up by the seniors and looked around.

The gym was decorated as well as any senior class can manage in a day and a half. There was a sort of tree sculpture made of paper and what appeared to be a canopy of pantyhose erected in the center of the gym that everyone was avoiding. The theme this year had been 'places around the world' and they had chosen rainforests. There was a tiger skin rug attached to the wall and some giant leaf cutouts taped up. All and all, it was semi-disappointing, but at least I could look forward to people tripping over the giant tree sculpture throughout the evening.

Ellen spotted some of her friends from the volley ball team and went off to another area. Katie and Andrew went to dance to some unrecognizable pop song with some of their other friends and I went to lean against the wall and watch everyone.

"Wow, Sara you look…" John appeared beside me in a dark dress shirt and dress pants, his brother's white Marine hat perched on his head.

"Um, thanks? I like the hat," I said, the darkened gym hiding my slight blush.

"Oh, thanks, David lent it to me," He said, leaning against the wall beside me.

"That's cool of him, how's the rest of his visit been?" I asked, glancing around.

"Good, he thought you were really funny at the powder puff game," He smiled, adjusting the hat slightly.

"Yeah? Well, he was really nice," I said, "That was a good game, the Juniors got crushed."

"Aww, you insult my team!" He laughed.

"And you're terrified of mine," I giggled, thinking of the four FBI agents sitting around my apartment watching James Bond movies.

"Agent Morgan told me he does 1,000 sit-ups a day. He could literally crush me with his thumb!" John insisted. I laughed and nodded, skeptical of this information. Not that John would make that up, but perhaps Morgan would.

For about the next hour John and I joined back up with our friends for dancing with some of our classmates. John and Andrew had us all doubled over, watching the two dance together awkwardly as they attempted to mimic some of the girls. Some of the soccer team guys thought it would be good fun to steal his Marine hat. That turned out to be not such a good idea and resulted in twenty minutes of John chasing down every member of the team until he got his hat back.

I was having a really good time with my friends. The music was good, everyone's dresses were lovely and Spencer had only texted me twice. John looked really handsome , and had me laughing for an hour straight. And for awhile, I didn't even notice Alex creeping around in the back of the gym.


	85. Chapter 85

_Author's note(s): 1) FutureFBI, glad you like it enough to re-read! And no, you're not alone, I assure you. _

_2) Guest, No spoilers for you, though you are more than welcome to make guesses based on her earlier reactions to stuff. (Honestly your guess is as good as mine) Sorry :/ _

_3) As may be obvious, this is the rest of The Homecoming Dance! Wheee! Really hope you all like it._

Despite the fact that Hermione Granger got attacked by a troll, Moaning Myrtle got killed and Katie Bell got cursed, I've never been a fan of going to the bathroom with your friends. Ellen and Katie had spent the better part of an hour teaching me the various group dances I'd never heard of (I wasn't very social at my old schools, so I'd never gone to any dances) so I'd been a good friend and at least followed them into the hall.

"Hello again… Sara," Said a voice in my ear. This time I jumped, recognizing the voice as Alex's once again.

"What do you want now?" I asked, silently willing Ellen and Katie to finish their primping.

"Oh you know, just to talk to you," He said quietly, dragging out each word.

"Alright…" I said nervously. Alex rested his hand on the wall above my shoulder and leaned over me.

"You know it's all your fault Krystal dumped me," He said, his face looming directly in front of mine.

"I'm… sorry?" I said, shrinking back.

"Really? I'm not; she's been cheating on me for weeks… You know Reid, you look really good in that dress," He whispered, his free hand brushing against the bottom of the dress skirt.

"Then perhaps you shouldn't touch it," I growled, again trying to pull away from Alex.

Alex grinned wickedly, "I'll do what I-" He started, when suddenly he disappeared from my vision. I whipped my head around; Alex was pinned against the lockers by John, his forearm locked across Alex's windpipe.

"I ever see you near her again you'll wish you were never born, understand me?" John snarled, nose to nose with Alex. I un-flattened myself from the wall and put a hand on John's arm, trying to pull him off Alex.

"John-" I whispered frantically.

"That a threat, country-boy?" Alex asked, his eyes narrowing.

"It's a promise," Said John, releasing him suddenly. "I suggest you go on home now," He said, purposefully deepening his southern drawl. Alex straightened his shirt and immediately hurried down the hall and out the school's front door, cowering like a wounded dog.

"Are you alright?" He asked, turning to me worriedly.

"Yeah, yeah I'm fine," I assured him, subconsciously straightening John's jacket for him like I did for Spencer every day before work. "I feel so stupid," I muttered, leaning back against the wall weakly. Ellen and Katie finally emerged from the bathroom with a small group of girls, none of them noticed John and I standing just down the hall.

"What do you mean? Why would you feel stupid?" John asked.

"I just froze… How can I just freeze like that? I don't do that," I said in disbelief, "Anymore."

"Hey, you know you don't always have to be the superhero, right?" He asked, resting a hand on my upper arm.

"Erm… No," I smiled.

John grinned, "Knew you'd say that. So, want to go back to the dance?" I nodded and linked arms with him and made our way back to the gym through the cardboard and garbage bag maze. We looked around; everyone was clustered around the stage where a few people from each grade were standing with various sized crowns of their heads.

"Will the Homecoming king and queen please make their way to the center of the dance floor? It's time for a special dance," The DJ announced in his usual overly enthusiastic tone. The gym lights dimmed once again and an Aerosmith track began to play. I watched as the couples paired up and began to sway softly to the music while others fled the gym.

"You, um, would you like to dance?" John asked suddenly, pushing the Marine hat to the very back of his head.

My eyes widened and a redness spread across my face, "Uh, yeah, sure," I said, too quickly as usual. John reached for my hand and intertwined our fingers, bringing our hands up to rest on his chest. I rested my other hand lightly on his shoulder and John placed his free hand just above the small of my back.

My heart was thudding uncontrollably against the inside of my chest, I was so nervous and I couldn't understand why. The gym was full of people, yet it felt like John and I were completely alone. I couldn't tell if that made me more or less nervous. "Hi," John whispered in my ear, giving me a moment of relief from my rising panic. I was Sara Jane Reid, and Sara Jane Reid doesn't slow dance.

"Hi back," I responded, thankful that my nervousness hadn't caused my voice to quaver. We continued to sway, making a slow rotation where we stood. We continued like this for a while, my heart still beating sporadically as though it might just suddenly stop and let me die right there. Wouldn't that be embarrassing.

John drew me closer to him gently, wrapping an arm around my waist. I looked up to meet his gaze, the frames of our glasses bumping slightly, causing both of us to smile nervously as our foreheads rested against each other. John just kept smiling at me, with that same smile he'd had a year ago when we'd met on the bus to school. The same smile he wore every time I said 'good morning' to him in English class. The same smile he had every time he made me laugh at lunch. And yet, this smile was more.

His head tipped toward me and I drew closer to him still, almost every thought I'd ever had screaming though my mind, predominantly the words '_DON'T SCREW THIS UP REID, DON'T SCREW THIS UP,' _as well as, _'The origins of the kiss were studied in the early 20th century by anthropological writer Ernest Crawley. He wrote that kissing was "a universal expression in the social life of the higher civilizations of the feelings of affection, love and veneration."_'

Our lips met, his hesitantly pressing against mine, they were softer than I'd expected of a boy. I closed my eyes, my brain mercifully quieting down enough for me to sink into this moment. John's arms wrapped around me tightly, pressing me closer to him. He moved back slightly, his lips left mine. I smiled at him and stretched up, standing on my toes; kissing him back and I felt him smile. Finally the song ended and the couples separated, another song replacing the momentary silence. John let go of me and I quickly wrapped my arms around his shoulders, grinning up at him nervously.

"It might be a bit late for this, but Sara Reid, would you be my date for Homecoming?" He grinned.

"I don't see why not," I replied, my face the same bright shade of pink as John's.

"Great. Next question, would you also consider being my girlfriend?"

"Yes."

"Yes, you'll consider it, or-" He began to ask.

"Yes, I'd be very pleased to be your girlfriend, John LaMontagne."


	86. Chapter 86

_Author's note: 1) I just hit 200 reviews guys, 200! That's a lot! By the way, 'too lazy to log in,' the 200th was you. Congrats! You get... nothing really, many apologize. 2) Thank you all so much for the lovely reviews I got on the last chapter, I was really nervous about writing it and wanted to get everything right so I'm glad you like it so much! 3) I hope you enjoy this one as well... that is all. -S. Watson_

The rest of the night I spent dancing with my friends, John kept his distance for a while since I wasn't keen on telling them yet. First dances and first kisses are more special if you don't have two or more squealing girls asking about it. That would make everything seem… less important, mediocre. And it would mean that what had just happened was real, and there was no better reminder of the 'realness' of the situation than my dear brother Spencer, who would be arriving at school in precisely ten minutes to pick me up. Knowing him, he was probably already in the parking lot.

"So, that was weird," I commented, leaning against the staircase by the back door of the school. Students with rides were filtering past John and I, the guys toting their suit jackets over their shoulders and the girls reluctantly tugging on the 6-inch heels they'd been foolish enough to try and wear for the duration of the dance.

"Tell me about it," He murmured, turning David's hat in his hands, inspecting the two gold buttons at the edge of the brim. I was about to reply when my phone vibrated in my bag, '_I'm outside, come out when you're ready. –Rossi' _it read. I wondered briefly why he was picking me up instead of Spence, but ignored it momentarily and replaced the phone in my purse.

"Dave's outside, I've got to go," I said, pulling my jacket off the stair rail.

"Dave?" He asked immediately.

I rolled my eyes, "_Agent _Rossi I mean," I specified.

"Oh, well can I walk you out?" John asked embarrassedly, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose.

"Umm..." I weighed the chances of Rossi profiling me as soon as I got in the car and decided to take my chances, either way I'd have three other profilers to deal with when I got home, "Sure, thanks," I replied, my face turning pink yet again.

"Great," He said, grinning brightly. He held open the backdoor for me, a sharp, cold breeze chilling us and everyone still waiting in the hall. "Cold out," He commented, looking around the parking lot. It was packed with cars, many with their headlights on, which was irritating and blinding. The pull around driveway that went directly past the door to the school was filled with limos and party-busses which had all been hired from the same business as our DJ.

"Yeah it is. Really John, I'm fine from here," I said, tugging my jacket more tightly around my shoulders. A car suddenly blinded us with its headlights and pulled out of its parking space, coming uncomfortably close to us at the edge of the parking lot.

"Not a chance Sara, people don't know how to drive," He said angrily, glaring at the car as it drove away. "Is that yours?" He asked, pointing across the lot at Spencer's blue Volvo.

"Yeah that's my ride. Well… See you soon… LaMontagne," I smirked.

"See you Reid," He answered just as casually. I glanced over at the car for a moment and quickly stood up on my tip-toes, sneaking in a kiss on John's cheek.

"Bye," I called, and rushed across the parking lot before any cars could come out of nowhere and attack me.

I pulled open the car door and sat down heavily in the passenger seat, slamming the door behind me to shut out the cold. "Did we have a good time, Princess?" Rossi asked from behind his newspaper, he was reading by the light of the overhead car light which I had previously thought to be broken.

"Yep," I squeaked out, internally cursing my nervousness.

Rossi flipped the page of his paper, glancing at me for a moment, "So, you kissed the boy. Are you finally 'going out'?" He asked, scanning over another paragraph. I wondered if he was just a really good profiler, or if there was something in my face that just made it obvious.

"Yes sir," I said quietly.

"Sir? You haven't called me that since the day we met. I thought I only scared FBI academy interns," He smiled, folding up the paper and starting the car.

"Sorry, I'm new at this," I said, smiling uneasily.

"Hey, I'm the fun one! It's not me you have to worry about," Rossi laughed, slowly driving out of the parking lot, being careful to avoid students trying to find their cars. I resisted the urge to laugh, somehow Rossi referring to himself as 'the fun one' made perfect sense. "So do you like him?" He persisted, his dark eyebrows flicking up in a very Uncle-like curiosity.

"Yeah, John's great. He's nice and he's funny and he's a gentleman. And he's a nerd, that's a plus. But a separate nerd from the kind that Spence is, if that makes sense," I rambled.

"Believe me, it makes perfect sense. No one but you can match the strange intelligence that is Doctor Reid. The difference is that you do… whatever the Reids do… gracefully," He said, the edges of my mouth turned up in a smile.

"Ok then," I said slowly, looking out the car window. I liked driving at night, watching the headlights of other cars, the blinking lights of planes or helicopters and the lit of grids of apartment buildings. They didn't quite make up for the stars I couldn't see anymore in the city, but it made Quantico feel like an endless field of lights.

"So, how are you going to break the news to the older Reid?" Rossi asked a few minutes later.

"I'm generating options and outcomes as we speak," I murmured.

A few agonizing minutes later Rossi and I pulled into the building's parking lot and I again had to rush through the biting wind. Rossi put an arm around me and hurried me into the lobby. We took the elevator upstairs since I was still wearing (a very, very short pair of Emily's) heels. I hadn't taken the elevator in months and the small space irritatingly reminded me the closet in Hotch's old house. I brushed that memory away quickly, I had enough to worry about right now, and dead serial killers didn't have priority at the moment.

"She made it back alive Reid," Rossi called, holding the apartment door open for me.

"And not a scratch or a hair out-of-place, I'm impressed Rossi," Morgan laughed. His place on the couch had not changed since I'd left, but there was now a large bowl of popcorn between him and Hotch. Spencer was lounging in his arm-chair; his mismatch-socked feet were up on the coffee table beside Morgan's and Hotch's.

"Tomorrow Never Dies?" I asked, glancing over at the TV. Roger Moore was running across the screen, gun drawn.

"The Spy Who Loved Me," Spencer corrected, taking a sip of coffee. I wondered why he was drinking coffee this late; it was nearly 11:30.

"So, how was the dance?" Hotch asked, looking away from the screen.

I glanced nervously at Rossi who nodded encouragingly. "Um, well John… LaMontagne asked me out. I said yes, by the way," I blurted out, my arms swinging at my sides idiotically. I never knew what to do with my arms, a trait that tied in well with my usual awkwardness. Morgan's handful of popcorn stopped halfway between the bowl in his mouth and Spencer swallowed a bit more coffee than he'd intended.

"He what?" Hotch asked, looking thoroughly surprised.

"Asked me out, I said yes," I repeated.

"Why would you say yes?" Spencer demanded.

"What do you even see in that kid?" Morgan asked.

"Huh, that's a good question Derek. I mean, he's not as good-looking as you, and he's not secretly a super hero like Hotch. He's not a bestselling author like Rossi, and he's certainly not as smart or clever as Spencer. I don't know what I see in him," I said, turning down the hall towards my room. "Oh wait, I know," I exclaimed, turning on my heel, "He's really protective of me like you, Derek. He's actually quite sweet and very respectful like Hotch is. He's funny like Rossi, though he isn't Italian… or have a moustache. And he can be charming and endearing like Spence. He has high standards to live up to I suppose. Well, I'm going to change," I finished casually. I patted Hotch and Morgan on the head as I passed the couch and skipped down the hall to my room, pleased with my speech.

The four profilers seemed dumbstruck and were still quiet when I sealed my bedroom door. I spun around for a minute or two, replaying my favorite songs from the evening in my head as vividly as if I could hear them. When I was dizzy, which didn't take very long from spinning, I carefully hung up my dress and stowed the borrowed shoes under my desk, replacing the formal attire for a pair of plaid pajama pants and an 'Abagnale High School- Go Wolverines!' T-shirt.

I silently opened my bedroom door and listened for any conversation going on down the hall. I caught snippets of "Secret superhero?" and "She's going to be good at debating," as well as "She is never going to one of those dances again." I smirked and jumped the distance from my doorway to that of the bathroom and began to scrub of the makeup and hairspray my head was covered with. When I finished I looked like my regular self, the usual 'glasses wearing-pixie-princess' the guys were used to. I snuck back into the living room and slid into the space where the popcorn had been, setting it on my knees instead and putting my feet up next to Derek and Hotch's. Spencer, as expected, was pouting in his chair.

"The villain in this movie has the best ending I've ever seen, taking a bite out of a shark and swimming off into the sunset. Amazing writing this," I commented, taking a handful of popcorn. The men glanced at me and smiled, each of them (besides Rossi) still looked at me somewhat worriedly, but seemed reassured with the fact that I would still rather talk about Bond (James Bond) than (my boyfriend) John.


	87. Chapter 87

_Author's Note: Taking place just before and directly after ep 5x15. Spencer's 29th birthday and Sara and John's first date are coming soon. Thanks, as always, for your wonderfully kind reviews. _

"That's so sweet!" Emily exclaimed.

"You must tell us absolutely everything my darling Pixie!" Penelope gushed.

I'd been relating the events of Saturday night to the ladies at the BAU; it was going much better with them than it had been with the guys. JJ, Emily, Garcia and I were staked out in the tech-cave that Monday morning since I had the day off school. I had called Ellen, Ali and Katie over the weekend and none of them seemed at all surprised by the news.

"There's not much else to tell really," I assured them, trying to keep from blushing.

"So when are you two going to go out?" JJ asked, spinning slowly in one of Garcia's chairs.

"Saturday, we're going to get coffee or something."

"Ok, ladies, advice time," Emily announced, turning to look at the other agents. "When it comes to going out, make sure you're not too available. Don't be available every night of the week, that makes it look like you don't have a social life."

"Does a social life constitute as sitting around my apartment watching Spencer reading?" I asked curiously. Most of my afternoons and evenings were made up of BAU visits, making dinner, homework and reading. The agents laughed and continued.

"But you also don't want to be totally unavailable," JJ said. "Unless you're studying, because studying is important and he has to respect that," She added, taking on a maternal tone.

"Online stalking is also a big no," Instructed Emily, though this seemed to be directed at Garcia as much as it was at me.

"Hey, missy, if it keeps the love interest from moving to Carache, I see no problem with a little online check from time to time," Penelope said defensively, winking at me. "And as hard as it is, don't hold poor, darling John to the unattainable standards of the perfect Derek Morgan," Penelope continued, enticing laughter among the rest of us once again.

JJ's pager went off and I watched her expression change slightly, "Bye?" I asked. I'd learned long ago how to read the team's expressions with ease, and right now she was wearing the 'there's a new case and it's bad' face.

"Bye," She nodded, patting Emily on the arm. I sighed and spun in my chair while Garcia started up her many monitors and the two profilers took their leave. "Spencer's birthday is on Friday, they'd better be back by then," I murmured bitterly.

"I'm sure they'll try, Pixie. They don't want crazy people running around any longer than they have to, especially not on boy-genius' birthdays," Penelope agreed. The rest of the week passed in somewhat of a blur. Spencer and the team went 'wheels up in thirty' and flew to Rhode Island to capture a really messed up attention seeking throat slasher, to put it in layman's terms.

I was surprisingly nervous about seeing John in school, like something was supposed to be different or strange now. That's the thing about those teen-romantic-comedy movies, after the main character ends up with the love interest, the credits roll and that's it. What happens after? The answer is, surprisingly, nothing. I was completely thrilled to realize that nothing had changed between John and I, it wasn't weird or pressured. The only noticeable difference was that two girls I had never spoken to before asked me how _I_ managed to snag 'Johnny Montane'. Teenage girls are not very well versed in flattery, or the proper pronunciation of names.

Despite the relative ease of the week, I still wished Spencer was home so I'd have someone to hang out with. It was pretty lonely for the few days the team was gone, this being their first case in a couple of weeks. I'd decided to camp out in the apartment alone while the team was gone, not wanting to bother Garcia, since sleep for her while the team was out was few and far between. The only contact I had with my brother for three days was a few texts warning me not to let 'the boy' into the apartment.

Late Thursday evening I was dozing on the couch when Spencer returned unexpectedly. I hadn't realized that the team was back already, so needless to say, the sudden appearance of another person in the apartment was really startling. "You just gave me a heart attack!" I scolded my brother, clutching my chest after my sudden awakening.

"Sorry, sorry," He said quickly, holding his hands up in surrender.

"It's fine," I said breathlessly, "Just call next time before you walk into the apartment while I'm half asleep."

"I do that all the time, you usually don't wake up when I get home late. And you're usually not asleep on the couch," Spencer pointed out, hanging up his jacket.

"True. Still don't appreciate being scared to death," I murmured, relaxing on the couch once again.

"Did you know that the phrase 'scared to death' is also the title of a 1947 film starring Bela Lugosi? The film opens with the disclosure by morgue examiners that a beautiful woman has literally died of fright. The woman was married to the son of a doctor, the owner of a private sanatorium, where she is undergoing forced treatment. The doctor's brother; a former stage magician in Europe, as well as a threatening dwarf arrive. After it becomes clear that the wife is terrified of the foreigners, it is discovered that she is the former wife and partner of a Paris dancer known as René, who had been shot by the Nazis-" Spencer rambled.

"Spence, it's like 11:30 on a school night, could this wait?" I asked, cutting him off mid stream.

"What? Oh, yeah of course," He said, blushing slightly.

"Great, see you in the morning, goodnight," I said, giving my brother a quick hug before trudging off to bed.

Unfortunately I saw him again well before morning. I woke up at roughly 3 am, I could hear someone calling out. I quickly identified the voice as Spencer's and hurried next door to his room. Spencer seemed to be fighting off an invisible intruder, calling out incoherently in his sleep. "Spencer!" I said worriedly, rushing over to the bed. He didn't wake up so I shook him roughly by the arm. "Spencer?" I asked again. Spencer's eyes flew open and he looked around in confusion for a moment.

"Sorry, I was just… sorry, bad dream, nothing to worry about," He tried to assure me as soon as he came out of his dazed state.

"Happy birthday, now what was that about?" I asked worriedly, sitting down at the edge of the mattress. The phrase 'happy birthday' immediately put his off and his expression turned cold.

"Please, just go back to bed Sara. Thank you for waking me up," He assured me again, sitting up against his headboard.

"Not a chance, now what's eating you?" I pressed.

"Um, I just… I've been having headaches," He confessed reluctantly, "And, I'm twenty nine today, and the average onset of schizophrenia in males is between ages 16 and 30…" He trailed off.

"Spence, you're fine. Please don't do this to yourself, please," I pleaded with him. Since I'd met Diana last year I had done some extensive reading on schizophrenia, so what Spencer was telling me now wasn't surprising. "One more year, Spence, one more year and you're out of the hot-zone. You're going to be fine, I promise," I tried to say as convincingly as possible.

"Yeah, you're right, thank you," Spencer said quickly, but I could read him just as easily as I read JJ. He didn't believe one word that I said, and I really couldn't blame him. "I'm sorry for worrying you, and waking you up," He added.

"Right, good. Its fine, really," I responded with false positivity. I'd let him think putting on the brave face would work for now. "Happy Birthday Spencer, goodnight," I said quietly, and returned to my room. I was unable to get back to sleep easily though, a nagging voice inside my head liked to taunt me sometimes about my not-so-irrational fears, and this was one of those times. _Spencer will be fine, he'll be fine, _I repeated over and over again in my head, trying to banish my worry. _One more year, one more year, _I silently chanted_. _But I'd be finding out soon how much can change in one year.


	88. Chapter 88

_Author's note: Spencer Reid's 29th Birthday! Hope you all enjoy._

I woke up at my usual time for school. Spencer was still asleep and snoring lightly when I went to check on him, so I opted to take the bus. I got dressed in my navy blue school uniform; French braided my hair and left my brother a 'Happy Birthday' note before hurrying downstairs to the street to catch the bus.

I settled into my seat with my backpack and messenger bag, it was an old one I'd found in the hall closet, and my phone went off. I checked my messages and found a text from Morgan, '_Prentiss and I are taking pretty boy out later, make sure he's ready to go by 8. –Derek,' _it read. I sent a quick reply letting the agent know that Spencer would be ready to go. I thought about the headaches Spencer had complained of just last night, but I decided that they were probably caused by stressed. A night out with Emily and Derek would probably take his mind off them.

"Hey Reid," John greeted me happily, dropping into the seat beside me.

"LaMontagne," I grinned, stashing my phone in my backpack.

"I like your hair like that," He commented, and then suddenly seemed embarrassed. For someone who'd been shamelessly flirting with me for almost a year, giving out compliments suddenly made him nervous.

"Thanks," I smiled, my face turning a very light shade of pink.

"So, is your team back?" John asked.

"Yeah, they got in really late last night. Just in time too, it's Spencer's birthday today."

"Oh, tell him I said Happy Birthday. How old is he?" John asked.

"Twenty nine," I answered. Spencer had already been fourteen when I was born, which meant he had been attending Cal-Tech at the time.

"Oh, do you have plans with him for this afternoon?"

"Not really, I'm going to bake a cake, and Prentiss and Morgan are going to take him to a bar or something later," I replied as we pulled up at the school.

When I got home from school around four, I walked into the apartment to find Spencer napping on the couch, still in his pajamas. There were two empty coffee mugs beside him, as well as a completed rubix cube. I honestly didn't understand why he still messed with rubix cubes, he could solve them incredibly fast and I'd watched him do so at least twelve times. I left my backpack and coat in the hall and went to the kitchen to start baking. I was just putting the batter filled pan into the oven when Spencer turned over and sat up, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes. "Afternoon," I called, setting the oven timer and walking into the living room, taking a seat in my chair.

"Afternoon?" Spencer asked groggily.

"Afternoon," I repeated, watching him amusedly. "You should probably go take a shower or something, you're going out with Derek and Emily at eight tonight," I said, propping my feet on the coffee table.

Spencer moaned and rolled off the couch, trudging down the hall to the bathroom. "I'll pick out your clothes," I called after him, laughing as I recalled a similar scene involving Hotch and Jack before a play date. I checked the cake once more before hurrying to Spencer's room. The bed was still unmade, which I didn't bother to correct. I opened his closet and rifled through, pulling out a red/orange button up and a three-quarter length sleeved t-shirt. I quickly replaced the t-shirt in the closet, I'd seen him wear this before and it made him look like a twelve-year-old. I went into his dresser and grabbed a pair of old jeans and tossed both onto the bed.

I set the cake on the counter to cool just as Spencer returned to the living room, "Looks good," I complimented him. "Just, hang on," I hurried over to him and rolled the shirt sleeves up to his elbows and undid the top shirt button, "Better," I said, and returned to the cake. Spencer rolled his eyes and sat back down on the couch.

At eight o'clock there was a knock at the front door, "Reid, you ready to go man?" Derek called through the door. Spencer looked at me wide-eyed, silently begging me not to make him go.

"C'mon in guys!" I called. Spencer frowned and crossed his arms, staying seated. Derek and Emily entered the room a moment later. The muscular Derek had a clean shave and wore a dark v-neck shirt that showed off his arms. Emily had on a dark skirt and somewhat low-cut top, with heels. Her hair was wavy and she had on a little more makeup than usual. "Where's your destination this evening?" I asked the two.

"The Auld Dubliner," Derek announced.

"I used to talk Star Trek there!" Spencer said excitedly.

"Not tonight my man, it's ladies night," Derek grinned.

"And as I recall, you talking Star Trek was a drinking game you played with those two… Anderson and Gina," Emily teased.

"They drank, I answered trivia," Spencer corrected.

Emily snorted, "Huh, yeah right," She laughed.

"Come on Reid, we're burning night-light!" Derek said, tapping his foot impatiently.

Spencer reluctantly got up from the couch and started to follow the two towards the door, "He better not be home before midnight!" I called after them.

"Not a chance, Dubliner never closes before two! Bye Glasses!" Derek called over his shoulder and slammed the apartment door shut behind them.

And sure enough, five hours later there was a knock at the front door. I shook myself awake and got up out of my lounge chair to open it. Spencer was being partially supported by Morgan, and Emily had her heels slung over her shoulder. The three smelled like smoke, sweat and beer, and there was what appeared to be lipstick on Spencer's cheek. Dually noted, Emily's lipstick seemed to have disappeared.

"Sa-ra! Hey!" Spencer greeted me tiredly, his eyes half closed. I noticed some confetti in his hair as well.

"Hi?" I said, opening the door wider for the three to pass through. Derek stumbled through, he half dragged Spencer to the couch and dropped his there heavily. Emily followed him, wobbling slightly with each step. "Fun night?" I asked sarcastically.

"The best! Morgan let it slip-" Emily giggled, leaning against the wall.

"Let it slip that we had us a birthday boy in the club," Morgan finished, dropping into the chair I had been sitting in. "Everybody was getting him drinks, all the girls wanted to dance with him, poor kid didn't know what to do with himself," Derek laughed, his words slurring together a little. Spencer began snoring loudly on the couch, curled into a ball.

"Right… Well, there's no way you two are driving home," I said, rubbing my eyes beneath my glasses.

"We're fine, we'll get out of your hair," Emily waved me off.

"Not a chance. Derek take the recliner, Emily you can have my room. I'll make coffee in the morning, and if any of you vomit on my floor it is your problem," I instructed. Emily shrugged at Derek and followed me down the hall while Derek settled into the chair with a blanket, kicking off his shoes. I pointed Emily to my room and stepped into Spencer's.

"Sara, wait a second," Emily said, leaning against my doorway.

"Yeah?" I asked.

"You're a good kid," She smiled appreciatively.

"Yeah. Goodnight Emily," I said. She nodded and shut the door behind her and I returned to Spencer's room. "At least Spence had a good time," I mumbled, setting my glasses on the bedside table and snuggling under the comforter. The loud sounds of Spencer and Derek snoring in the living room filtered in from down the hall. I put a pillow over my head and tried to sleep. I was just drifting off when a feeling of dread entered my stomach. My first date was tomorrow.


	89. Chapter 89

_Author's note: Thanks, as always, for the kind reviews! Sorry it's been a few days, I hope this makes up for it, and I should be updating in the next few days as well. _

I woke up just after nine in the morning on Saturday, unsurprised to find myself in Spencer's room. Like I've mentioned before, I don't have a few moments of memory loss in the morning, I always know right where I am and what's been happening. And at the moment, I had three hung over FBI agents to deal with.

I opened the door to Spencer's room and checked in my room, Emily was still asleep in there so I closed the door and went to check the living room instead. Spencer didn't seem to have moved since he'd passed out there the night before. I brushed some of the hair out of his face and glanced over at where Derek should have been. Make that two hung over FBI agents to deal with- Derek was bright-eyed and cheery looking, brewing some coffee in the kitchen.

"Morning Glasses!" He greeted me.

"Hey Morgan, how long have you been up?"

"About an hour and a half, I took a shower, went for a walk, now I'm having coffee," He listed for me.

"Right… no thanks. I have to make some toast," I murmured. I heard Spencer groan on the couch, he appeared to be swatting away an invisible fly.

-Meanwhile, on the couch-

Doctor Spencer Reid woke up just enough to hear an irritating buzzing sound. What was that? A bee? He swatted at it and it went away, followed by some metal clanging that sounded like bombs going off. Was he on a couch? And what was that horrible taste in his mouth? It tasted like something had died in his throat last night. The French had a word for that, what was it again? The loud banging in his head made it impossible to remember. What was happening? Was it even the French that had a word for the taste in his mouth? Had he ever even know what the word was?

-Back in the Kitchen-

Derek was watching me silently from the kitchen table, looking at me skeptically as I put the fourth piece for partly burnt toast on a plate next to the toaster. "Is something burning in here?" Emily asked, walking slowly into the kitchen with a hand on her head. She sat down heavily next to Derek who passed her a mug and poured her some coffee. "Sara, what are you doing?" She asked, propping her head up on her left arm.

I handed her a piece of the somewhat burnt toast, "Eat that," I instructed.

"Why is this burnt?" She asked tiredly, looking over the toast quizzically. "And how much sugar did you put in this?" She grimaced, taking another sip of coffee.

"A lot. The processes that break down alcohol produce lactic acid. It interferes with glucose production, so you need more sugar. Also, after you finish that cup you get water for the rest of the day or you'll get dehydrated."

Another groan came from the couch, and we turned to see Spencer slowly walking towards us. "My head. Can I have an aspirin or something please?" He asked, sitting down beside Prentiss and burying his head in his arms- so much for a fun night out taking his mind off his headaches.

"Sorry, no. Alcohol disrupts how the liver processes acetaminophen, so taking one now may lead to liver inflammation and permanent damage," I apologized, handing him a piece of burnt toast as well. "Eat this, the carbon from the burnt parts will help filter out the alcohol," I instructed.

Derek and I watched amusedly as Spencer and Emily grimaced through their charred breakfast. Emily and Morgan left soon afterwards and Spencer went to take a shower while I went to sift through my closet for an acceptable outfit. I ended up pulling practically all of my clothes out of the closet before Spencer came to help. "What… are you doing?" Spencer asked, eyeing the multiple piles of clean and dirty clothes that littered my floor, bed and dresser. I noticed dark rings beneath his eyes, but the smell of alcohol had disappeared. I could tell he was still tired, since he was wearing a T-shirt and jeans today instead of his usual sweater and tie.

"Finding clothes for later, I'm meeting John at two, remember?"

"Found them," Spencer joked, gesturing to the room as a whole.

"Funny," I muttered, throwing a shirt back into my dresser.

"Sorry," He laughed, stepping between the various items of clothing and taking a seat on the bed. "Um, I sort of want to ask you something," He said nervously.

"Something bothering you?" I asked, putting a few things back in the closet so I was facing away from Spencer.

"How did you know how to take care of us- me, Morgan and Prentiss- when we were all… very heavily intoxicated last night? And when we were suffering from Veisalgia this morning?" He asked.

"Veisalgia?" I asked.

"The little known clinical term for a hangover," He explained quickly.

"Oh I see. Um…" I trailed off uncomfortably. "Right, my mom used to drink… quite a bit sometimes… she got hospitalized for alcohol poisoning once. I did my research," I shrugged, keeping my back to my brother so he wouldn't see my face.

"I… I didn't know that," Spencer said softly.

"Yeah," I replied. Spencer stayed quiet, but didn't seem to have any intention of leaving the room. "Just so you know, I don't think you and Emily and Derek are like her, like my Mom I mean. I know you guys are responsible."

"Good, good," Spencer said quickly, nodding.

"So, any ideas on what I should wear today?" I asked, turning back around and trying to smile.

"Me? You always pick out my clothes," Spencer reminded me, adjusting his glasses.

"I'm humoring you," I laughed. "Now, pants, skirt or a dress?" I asked, brushing my hair back over my shoulder.

"Um…."

"Or is a dress too formal?" I asked, talking more to myself now.

"Did you know that throughout the 19th century dresses had a day bodice with a high neckline and long sleeves, and an evening bodice with a lower neckline and shorter sleeves?" Spencer informed me, rather than answer the question directly. He stopped to massage his forehead, shutting his eyes.

"Did you know that people have been experiencing hangovers since before biblical times? Isaiah 5:11, 'woe to those who rise early in the morning to run after their drinks, who stay up late at night till they are inflamed with wine,' is one of the earliest refrences to hangovers in history" I smirked.

Spencer rolled his eyes, "I think a skirt might be nice, with some of those pants stocking things."

"Leggings?" I laughed.

"Yeah those," He agreed. "Nothing like what some of the women were wearing last night, if you ever dress like them you will never leave the house... by the way, you're just going for coffee, right?"


	90. Chapter 90

_Author's note: Sorry it's been awhile guys, I had a play at school which I had to devote a lot of time to, but I'm back now. _

As expected, it turns out that Spencer wasn't the best choice when it came to a picking-out-clothes-helper. I ended up with a black pair of jeans, knee socks under tall boots, and a button-up under a tan sweater with thin white stripes. It was pretty cold out so I grabbed my FBI jacket from the closet, a souvenir I'd earned from the Foyet incident. I braided my hair as well because 1) John mentioned he liked it that way and 2) it was windy and I hate it when my hair gets tangled in my glasses.

"So what time will you be back?" Spencer asked again for the third time.

"By 4:30, I'll come straight home in time for dinner," I recited, zipping up my jacket.

"And you have your cell phone?"

"Yes Spencer," I said, waving the phone in front of me.

"And you know that I or Morgan or Hotch or any of us are just a phone call away," He reminded me.

"That won't be necessary, I'm friends with some of the SWAT agents," I laughed. That was actually true, but I hoped he didn't realize it. Knowing Spencer, he would actually call them if anything went wrong. "Spence, I've really got to go," I said, taking a step towards the door.

"Oh… ok. Um," I could see him wrestling with the phrase 'have a good time,' but he obviously didn't want that to happen. "Bye, see you at 4," He finished.

"4:30," I corrected him, my hand on the doorknob.

"Ok, be careful," He said nervously.

"Bye, love you," I said, sealing Spencer inside the apartment.

"Bye, love you too!" He called after me. I laughed to myself, a feeling of nervousness and anxiety replacing the easy-going feeling I'd had while getting ready. I got into the wood and mirrored elevator of the building and took the slow ride down to the ground floor, examining myself in the mirror.

I pushed my glasses up the bridge of my nose, my reflection blinking back at me. I turned my head, studying my profile. I looked a lot like Spencer, maybe a little more than I had a year and four months ago. Maybe it was just because I knew my brother's face so well now. I thought of my father, William Reid, and looked for any trace of him in my face. Spencer, Dad and I all had almost the same nose. I had my Mom's mouth and eyes, when I was little I had looked just like her, but some of the similarities were fading now. I smiled sadly back at myself, trying to see her more clearly.

The elevator arrived on the ground floor of the apartment building and the doors slid open, my reflection disappeared. I stepped out into the lobby and headed outside through the paneled front doors of the building, heading towards Third Street where one of my favorite coffee shops was located. Red and orange leaves were blowing down the street, not quite ready to make that satisfying crunching sound when you step on one. After a few minutes of walking without seeing many people I arrived at the coffee shop, grateful for the sudden rush of warmth as I pushed the door open.

"Hey Reid," The college student, Kyle, who ran the cashier greeted me. I nodded in response and looked around; the coffee shop was relatively small. It had dark hardwood floors that creaked under each step and some carpeted areas the held cushioned wood benches and a few bookcases. That area was usually occupied by a few studious college people, absorbed in their laptops or whatever paper they might be working on. I always thought it was funny how in Spencer's circle he was called 'Reid', and I was called 'Reid' in mine.

"Sara, hey," John greeted me, standing up from one of the circular corner tables.

"Hi," I smiled; glad the cold wind outside gave me excuse for my reddened face.

"Cold out," John commented, tugging at his sweater uncomfortably. Even though he'd moved from Louisiana a year earlier, he'd never quite adjusted to the cold.

"Yeah, freezing," I agreed, glancing around nervously.

"Here, I got a table, want to sit down?" John asked, gesturing at the table.

"Sure thanks," I sat down and folded my jacket over the back of the chair. The two of us ordered coffee and some blend of French tea and rearranged the napkins on the table several times before we actually started to talk.

"You know, you never told me you're story," John said, taking a long drink of tea and sighing contentedly.

"What do you mean?" I asked, swinging my legs back and forth under the table.

"Where you came from and all that, before you went to live with your brother," He clarified, his tone taking on some of the bluntness I usually associated with Will LaMontagne Jr. "I don't even know when you started living with him."

"Oh, I moved two summers ago, from around Danville… it's near the bottom of Virginia, bordering North Carolina. And then after Mom passed away I stayed around Richmond for a while," I murmured.

"Who'd you stay with?" John asked, leaning on his elbows.

"This foster care lady, Mrs. Pond, she had three other girls staying with her at the time. She had this nice house that her father left to her before he died."

"Still talk to any of them?"

"No, they didn't like me much," That was an understatement.

"That's too bad, probably jealous 'cause you were prettier and smarter than them," John smiled, trying to steer away from the uncomfortable feeling I was projecting.

"Yeah I'm sure that's it," I laughed, stirring my coffee. "So how's David been since he left?" I asked.

"Great, he's actually getting sent somewhere in Europe pretty soon," He informed me with a look of pride and admiration, "I was actually talking to him about doing that too someday."

"Doing what?" I asked.

"The Navy, joining I mean. You can enlist at 18, do boot camp for three or four months, you can do college classes while you wait to be deployed anywhere. David had to wait nine months to get sent off anywhere so he got a few credits done," He said excitedly. "I mean, they help you out with school so by the time I finished I could come back and become a police officer or a detective like Will."

"That's… really cool John, at least you still have a few years to decide," I said a little coolly.

"What about you, you want to join the Bureau?" John asked.

"I'm not sure, maybe. I've been talking to Rossi and he thinks I could do it… I think I could," I said nervously. The truth was that I had my heart set of the BAU probably as much as John had his heart set of becoming a Marine someday like David. "And then I could just retire at age forty or something and write like four books," I laughed.

"You could probably write a book now if you wanted, that Foyet interview you did got a lot of attention," John reminded me.

"Maybe someday," I shrugged.

John and I spent the rest of the afternoon chatting and drawing on napkins, trying not to disturb the people reading at the other end of the café. His hand eventually found mine on the table, and he held it for the remainder of our date. At 4:30 I realized that Spencer would be worrying so John drove me home in his Mom's car. He kissed me goodbye and drove away, leaving me to wander upstairs in a near comatose state of happiness.

"You're late; I thought something happened to you!" Spencer chastised me worriedly as soon as I opened the door. I glanced at the kitchen wall clock; it was only 4:42.

"Sorry," I lied, still pleasantly warm and fuzzy inside.

"This had better not be a start to your risk-taking phase," He warned me, "Because I was just reading a study that tracked the brain development of 400 children every two years, and they found that about 1 percent of the brain's grey matter was lost every year right into their early 20's. This one percent accounted for the unused neural matter that was overproduced during a child's growing years. The loss begins with the areas of the brain responsible for the motor functions, and then it moves on to the language and spatial regions of the brain, and finally the area of the brain responsible for decision-making and impulse control. It is thought that this is why many teenagers exhibit moodiness, short tempers and indulge in what may be described as bizarre behavior, like you being late today," Spencer rambled, the edges of his mouth turned down slightly. I did notice however, that his eyes gleamed with happiness at his ever growing knowledge.

"That's great Spencer," I smiled, stepping past him into the living room, not having paid too much attention to what he had been saying, "I'm just going to my room for a bit." I shut my bedroom door behind me and fell down onto my bed, staring up at the ceiling and recalling the image of John as he said goodbye to me, and smiled to myself.


	91. Chapter 91

_Author's Note(s): Episode 5x16 Mosley Lane. 1) This will be told partly from Charlie Hillridge's point of view 2) .ox, the angst, drama and stuff will be back soon, I swear! 3) Criminalmindslove69, thanks, I'm pretty proud too. 4) As always, thanks for reviewing!_

It was a few days after my date with John when a little girl named Aimee Lynch was abducted from the Winter Festival in Ashburn. The team took the case. Rossi had been telling me for a long time to 'compartmentalize,' it was something I would need to do in order to survive this job someday, if I did end up with the Bureau. The death of Hayley made that line between 'the job' and 'real life' disappear temporarily, for all of us. Charlie Hillridge made it difficult to tell the difference.

"How long have you been doing this Doctor Reid?" Sarah Hillridge was asking Spencer. I had walked into the Bureau a few hours earlier to find several couples wondering the hall, their faces ranging from joy to anxiety. They had all had an eight year old child kidnapped from them within the last decade, all by the same people. The other Sarah's son, Charlie, had been taken eight years ago, and now he was coming home. Eight years the Roycewood's had stolen from him- it made me sick.

"Five years, seven months, nineteen days," Spencer answered promptly. I had found a quiet spot on a bench to observe and to listen in. I knew this day would not end well for most of these parents, but I couldn't tear myself away. A few glanced over at me continuously, scrutinizing, wondering who I belonged to, why I was left alone.

"In your experience, what normally happens?" The woman asked. She was impossibly calm and anxious at the same time. From what JJ had told me, Sarah had been waiting for this day a long time.

"Charlie was eight when he was taken, which means developmentally he was in middle childhood. He has a stronger sense of right and wrong, and a growing understanding of his place in the world. Mentally, he had the ability to talk about his thoughts and feelings, while having less focus on himself and more concern for others."

"So you think he's going to be ok?" She concluded hopefully.

"With a mother like you who did all this, I do. I'm a Doctor, I put my faith in facts and statistical probability, but today, eight parents are going to have closure. Three children are going home with their families because you believed your son was alive," Spencer said, his tone softening as he spoke. This wasn't his 'work voice' anymore; it was the same voice he used with me. "That's as close to a miracle as I've ever seen," He added quietly, glancing over at me. I smiled back at him and then dropped my gaze to the floor.

Another woman, closer to Sarah Hillridge's age approached her and embraced her. The two were whispering to each other in rushed, anxious voices, and I assumed the second woman was wondering if her child would be among the three to return. Spencer came to sit beside me, "What um… happened to the unsubs?" I whispered, careful not to look directly at any of the anxious parents. Spencer opened his mouth to answer when the elevator door slid open and a man stepped out and rushed over to the other parents.

I let out a breath and looked back to my brother, "The female unsub, Anita Roycewood, was shot and killed by Charlie Hillridge. Her husband hanged himself soon after in the bathroom of their home," Spencer answered my question. I nodded and returned my gaze to the elevator doors. "I uh… need to see Hotch about… something," Spencer murmured distractedly before hurrying away into the BAU area.

I sat for a few more minutes, bouncing my leg up and down and staring at the floor. The loud 'ding' of the elevator drew my attention and I looked up quickly. Prentiss stepped out first, both hands on the shoulder of Aimee Lynch and an older girl covered in a film of dirt and wearing an FBI jacket like mine. They were followed by Morgan and a teenager who I assumed was Charlie Hillridge. "Charlie?" Mrs. Hillridge whispered.

Charlie was fixated on her, "Mom?" He asked, as though she was a mirage. She and the man rushed toward him and wrapped their arms around him. She was crying and Charlie had melted into their embrace, his eyes wide open. I suddenly felt as though I was intruding and dropped my gaze back to the floor, my eyes flooded with tears of joy for them. Morgan stepped over to the second woman and her husband and whispered something. The woman immediately burst into tears- Steven hadn't come home.

The crying couple started toward the elevator and Mr. and Mrs. Hillridge went to seek out JJ. Charlie broke away from his parents and tapped Steven's mother on the shoulder, "I knew Steven. He was like a brother to me," He said in a way that brought tears to my eyes again.

"Did he remember us?" The mother asked, her voice a mixture of hope and fear.

"You didn't doubt that, did you? Remembering you was the only way we survived," He replied.

"How old was Steven when he… when he died?" The father asked, choking back sobs.

"He died protecting that little girl," He said simply, turning to look at Aimee Lynch through the glass doors of the BAU.

"He was alive yesterday?" The father asked, tears began to stream down both the parents faces.

"No… no…" The mother cried bitterly, wrapping her arms around her husband's neck. I saw Charlie's head drop slightly and he stepped away from the two, who managed to step into the elevator and disappear a moment later. I watched Charlie for a few moments, he didn't look away from the elevator or move, like he was in a trance.

I stood up slowly and brushed away my own tears, "Are… are you ok?" I asked quietly, putting a hand on his shoulder. He jumped a little and turned to face me, there were no tears visible, but he was one of the saddest things I had ever seen.

_-Charlie's POV- _

I didn't turn away as the elevator door slid shut, sealing away Steven's parents. I silently tried to call them back, I had more to say. Like how sorry I was that I wasn't there to help him. "Are… are you ok?" A small voice asked behind me. Someone grabbed me lightly by the shoulder and I jumped involuntarily at the unexpected touch, and turned around quickly.

I assessed the girl quickly, she didn't look like any of the girls I'd seen at Mosley Lane, she hadn't been one of us, I concluded. The girl was shorter than me, and cleaner. I'd grown used to the thin layer of dust that was constantly present at that house. Evidently, this girl had never had to worry about that problem. "What's your name?" I asked, rather than answer the question. It felt strange to ask it like that, 'what's your name?' usually ended with, 'you have to tell me before they try and give you a new one.'

"I'm Sara Reid, my brother is an agent here," She said quickly. I noticed that she was wearing a jacket like the one they had given to Mae.

"I'm Charlie," I said quietly. The girl, Sara, held out her hand automatically, like she was used to meeting people. I took it in mine and we shook twice. Her hands were small, delicate, but not limp or weak either.

"So… how are you handling all this?" Sara asked, her gesture encompassing the entire area.

"It's… different," I answered. Something about this girl put me at ease, which was unusual. There was something about her that promised everything would be alright. "I can't change what happened," I added.

"No, I suppose not," She agreed. She looked around pointedly, as if 'the past' might be lying around somewhere for her to find, and change, and stick in her pocket to take with her, and I suddenly got the impression that something very bad had happened to her a very long time ago.

I saw Mom returning, she was looking at me excitedly, like she still wasn't sure that I was real, and the feeling was mutual. Sara saw her too and said, "You've got a lot of catching up to do, but if you ever need someone to talk to about this, you can call me any time," She reached deep into her shoulder bag and dug out a business card. It said 'David Rossi,' but that name was lightly crossed out and replaced with 'Sara Reid' and a different phone number.

"Thanks, I'll keep that in mind," I nodded, placing the card carefully into the pocket of my sweater.

"It was nice meeting you Charlie, bye," Sara said warmly before hurrying away towards the glass doors with 'Behavioral Analysis Unit' sketched onto them.

Mom hugged me again and put an arm around my shoulders, "Ready to go home, Charlie?" She asked happily, steering me towards the elevator. I had been ready for eight years, more than ready.


	92. Chapter 92

_ Author's note: In the word's of Garcia, I did a thing. I moved up the events from the beginning of episode 6x06 to just after episode 5x17 so that they can celebrate Halloween. Nothing major in the overall plot changes, so don't panic. Some angst is back, more to come. As always thank you all so much for reviews, for one who asked, I have to do a lot of research for the stats that Spencer says from various places online and from my own personal library. _

_"Come little children, I'll take thee away. Into a land of enchantment. Come little children, the times come to play, here in my garden of magic," _Spencer and I were burrowed into the living room couch with several blankets and a bowl of candy between us. We'd been stationed there like this for the past four hours, watching 'Hocus Pocus' and 'Tim Burton's Corpse Bride' a few days before Halloween. Last year Spencer and the team had been on a case through the entire week of Halloween, so we hadn't been able to celebrate his favorite holiday together. He'd been rattling off random 'All Hallows Eve' factoids all day and wearing various masks, he seemed to be thoroughly enjoying himself.

The apartment, of course, had been decorated more elaborately than the White House at Christmastime. We'd been carving pumpkins yesterday, mine became The Crack in the Universe from Doctor Who, and Spencer had attempted to carve an anatomically correct skeleton hand. In the end, I had gotten nauseous from touching 'pumpkin guts,' and Spencer's pumpkin had a large misshapen chunk missing out of it. There were paper bats hanging from the ceiling, and Spencer thought it was great fun to hide some very realistic glass-eyes in my room, my bag, and the milk jug. The eyes floating around in the milk jug had actually scared me a lot.

Spencer was entirely wrapped up in the movie, as was I. Mom and I hadn't devoted a lot of time to holidays throughout the year, religious or otherwise, so holidays with 'The Reids' had become a welcome change in the last year and a half. "I can't wait for Halloween this year, can you? It's when the barrier between the natural and the supernatural becomes removed!" He blurted out for the third time that week.

"Yeah, I'm really looking forward to it," I agreed as eagerly as possible, smothering a yawn, "What about the team? Are they big Halloween people too?" I asked.

"Well, not Morgan."

"How come? I figured Derek would love the opportunity to walk around shirtless in a bar or whatever," I laughed, grabbing another piece of candy from the bat-decorated bowl.

"He doesn't like people in disguises; he seems to think it's weird. Masks have existed for over 9,000 years, so it isn't a new or unnatural occurrence by any means for people to wear masks. The only things I do recall him enjoying about Halloween were scary movies and 'Halloween Honeys,'" Spencer smirked. The last comment sent the candy bowl to the floor as I tried to catch my breath from laughing.

"That's terrible!" I sputtered between gasps, covering my mouth with my hand. After a few minutes I recovered and resumed my yawning, "Right, I'm pretty tired. I think I'll go to bed if it's all the same with you," I said, stretching and untangling myself from my pile of blankets.

"What? It's only 11:56!" Spencer whined, reminding me of Jack Hotchner on a few babysitting excursions.

"Goodnight Spence," I rolled my eyes and planted a kiss on the top of my brother's head.

"Fine, goodnight," He conceded, retrieving his candy from its scattered location on the floor. I chuckled to myself and treaded down the hall to my room, my socks sliding a little on the hardwood. I carefully checked my blankets and pillows for any hidden 'presents' from Spencer before climbing in and burrowing in with the pillows, trying to muffle the sounds of witch laughter filtering in from the living room.

_"Sara, where are you?" A disembodied voice was calling. Everything was dark and I tried to feel my way around, but there was nothing to hold onto. "Sara Reid! Where are you?" My stomach suddenly dropped as I recognized the voice as my mother's. _

_"Mom? I'm here!" I called, but no sound came out of my mouth. The darkness slowly shifted, revealing the woods out behind my house- my old house. I could see light coming from the window of my Mom's room and I started to run towards it. The trees seemed to be accelerating towards me at an unnatural speed, but I was getting no nearer to the house. "Mom! I'm trying!" I called desperately, fighting onward towards the house. I was running as hard as I could, but was making no progress, if anything the house was getting farther away. _

_"Where do you think you're going brat?" A husky voice snarled from behind me. I whirled around and the trees followed me, coming slowly back into focus. Before me stood Richard, the last of my mother's awful boyfriends, the same one I'd chased from our house with a handgun, which he was now holding. Beside him was Foyet, grinning wickedly, "Why so serious, kid?" He laughed as Richard raised the gun to my forehead. Now I was completely frozen in place, terror was surging through me and yet nothing was happening._

_"Sara!" My mother's voice filtered through again. The scene changed and I was in my mother's bedroom, my science paper back in my hand and the shades of the bedroom drawn. This I recognized as the day I'd found her body. There was a darkened figure on the bed, and I reached out to it. _

_"Mom, I'm so sorry," I began to cry, cursing myself again for not getting to her sooner. _

_"Sorry? Is that all you can say? You're worthless, like your father." I looked up, my mother was standing across the bed from me._

_"You're alive? But then who is this…" I looked down in horror at the figure on the bed, and began to scream._

"Sara, Sara wake up, you're alright, you're alright," Spencer was holding me to his chest, gently trying to shake me back to reality. I was shaking violently and my face was soaked with tears. He realized I had woken up and stopped rocking me, but didn't let go. It took a few minutes to calm down enough to speak, but I couldn't stop the violent tremors coursing through me.

"Sorry… sorry… nightmare…" I said slowly.

"I guessed as much, are you alright?" He asked worriedly, releasing me so I could look up at him. I glanced over at my clock which had been specially picked out so I could read it in the dark without the aid of glasses, it was 3 am.

"Yeah, fine. It was an old one anyways…" I trailed off.

"What do you mean an old one? How long have you been having these nightmares?" He asked, his eyebrows knitting together. I could see the profiler setting in again.

"Um, a few weeks maybe? I don't know, they change sometimes, this one has been the same for a while now," I said quietly. It was true, I'd been suffering the same nightmare on and off since last month.

"Weeks? Sara maybe you should see someone," Spencer began.

"No!" I said, more forcefully than I'd intended, "I mean, that's really not necessary," I tried to assure him.

Spencer looked at me skeptically and dropped his head, "Just… try to get some sleep alright? Do you want me to stay in here with you until you doze off?" He asked hesitantly.

"Please?" I nodded.

He smiled sadly to himself, "Sure Sunshine, how 'bout a story?" He asked, leaning up against one of the pillows against the footboard of the bed. "You know that oddly shaped little wooden puzzle on Prentiss's desk?" I nodded. "She told me the story of it a few weeks ago, it's a romantic little tale, of course it's highly illogical but, I think you might like it," He explained, taking on a more gentle tone of voice he used when reading aloud or reciting the stories he and Diana had read when he was young.

"There was a young prince who wanted to win the heart of the fairest maiden in all the land, so he climbed to the very top of the tallest tower in the kingdom and he caught a falling star for her. Unfortunately, he was so excited by his success that he dropped the star and it smashed into all the little pieces of the star puzzle. So, the prince frantically had to put the star back together again to prove his undying love for her, and he succeeded, and they lived happily ever after."

I smiled back at my brother tiredly, "Thanks Spence," I said quietly. He nodded and stood up from the bed.

"Will you be alright by yourself?" He asked.

"Yeah, thanks," I nodded. Spencer smiled and gave me a kiss on the forehead before walking away and shutting the door behind him. I curled back under my blankets and managed to stay asleep for the rest of the night, sans any nightmares.

The next day Spencer took me to work with him to distribute some candy to the other agents. He wore another of his masks and I had a witch's hat. By then Spence had seemingly tired of telling me all of his Halloween trivia, and proceeded to tell Emily instead. I honestly couldn't understand how they had arrived at the subject, since the last thing I had heard Emily ask him was what The Reid's had planned for the weekend.

"The cool thing about Halloween is that it's a uniquely American holiday, I mean, despite it's obvious origins in the Celtic festival of Sam Hayne and the Christian All Saints Day, it really is a melting pot of various immigrants traditions and beliefs. It came a little more commercialized in the 1950's with trick-or-treating, but today it rivals only Christmas in terms of popularity," Spencer informed her within the space of 45 seconds.

"All I asked is what they were doing this weekend," Emily muttered to Rossi and Derek, who smirked at her expense.

"We're toying with the notion of either going to the Edgar Alan Poe Shadow Puppet Theater or the reenactment of the ninetieth century Phantasmagoria."

"I don't want to know," Rossi said in a way that would discourage anyone who's last name is not Reid.

"Yes you do! They're these amazing pre-cinematic projected ghost shows invented in France where the showmen tried to spook the audience using science magic-" I quickly informed them. I was met with a somewhat disgruntled look from Penelope, who's hair had been dyed a lovely orange to celebrate the season.

"And it just so happens, we have an extra ticket," Spencer finished happily, looking pointedly at Garcia.

"Tempting," She replied, in a way that suggested it was anything but.

"Right, if you're about to start up with your gore-fest, I'm out of here. Catch the bad guy, be back by Halloween," I listed for the team, and quickly departed from the bull pen back to the desk area. I wasn't keen on staying with Garcia while the team was away, due entirely to my sudden vocalization of my nightmares as of last night. I tried not to worry about the coming nights though; I now had thoughts of a fallen star and a wayward prince to occupy my thoughts until Halloween. Stories however, would never permanently banish the monsters that so often haunted my dreams.


	93. Chapter 93

_Author's note: Emily Prentiss profiles The Reids, at the beginning of 5x18_

Emily Prentiss thumbed through her stack of paperwork; taking note that some files that had not been there a few minutes ago, had now appeared. Dually noted, Agent Morgan's stack of files had gone down significantly. She rolled her eyes and removed the extra work, ready to give it back to its rightful owner at her earliest convenience. Emily took a sip from her morning coffee and glanced up, The Reids had arrived. Sara, now just under 15 and a half, was holding tightly to a piece of paper and waving it triumphantly at Derek. It must be her report card. Just behind her trailed Spencer, a look of sheer pride emanating from his features.

She remembered that the previous evening had been 'Report Card Night' at Sara's school, a night when parents or guardians came to pick up report cards from the first ten weeks of school and meet with teachers. The previous year the team had been on a case, so Spencer had missed 'Report Card Night.' Sara had brought Garcia with her instead and hadn't mentioned any of it to her brother. She had assumed that her brother would forget about the missed school function and didn't bring it up, but the older Reid had remembered, and had come to work for three days in a row with a bad mood because of it.

"Whoa! Let me see this!" Morgan exclaimed, snatching the paper from the younger Reid and throwing down his pen on the desk. He smiled brightly and pulled the girl onto his knees, looking over the first-quarter grades with almost as much pride as Spencer. Emily watched the scene from the corner of her eye. She had noticed long ago that Sara always paid special attention to the members of her 'family' that didn't have their own children to go home to, namely Derek, Rossi, Garcia and herself. It was part of the girl's caring and protective instinct, Emily profiled. Both the Reid's had this quality, though it surfaced in different ways.

Spencer was the type to always place blame on himself for any danger or injury the team dealt with, for instance, when she and the Doctor had been hostages at the cult ranch in Colorado. He had blamed himself for weeks as her injuries healed. She also had several memories of Reid counting the injuries of teammates throughout the years, and trying to advise the paramedics on how best to treat them.

Emily watched Sara move onto Rossi, who adjusted his reading glasses to assess the grades she had received so far. It was never far from any of their minds how close they had come to losing the younger Reid, and it was doubtful that any of them would soon forget. The entire team had been badly shaken over the Foyet incident, Spencer had completely broken down in the hospital lobby and Morgan had nearly demolished a wall after seeing her injuries. Rossi had gone completely silent for at least two hours while Garcia had gone onto a long-winded and tearful speech about the 'poor, brave baby Reid.' As for herself, Emily had been caught up in a silent terror that she barely managed to hide from her teammates. Sara of course, had been unconscious during this brief period of falling apart, and had never been told how badly affected the team had been by the incident.

Spencer of course, had insisted that this was the best option- don't let her see the damage. His fear was that she would hide away every fear she had from them, and that would be incredibly unhealthy for her. But Sara was the type to keep her fears safely hidden away all the same. Spencer had only recently confided in Prentiss that Sara still had vivid nightmares about the incident, as well as others, though the nature of those nightmares she had not yet shared with him.

Rossi rewarded his 'niece' with a warm "Good girl," before she moved on to Hotch's office. Emily watched her climb the stairs, eagerly taking them two-at-a-time with ease. Spencer too, was watching her happily, and the profiler immediately picked up on something else in the young doctor's demeanor. "So Reid, how'd Sara do this quarter?" She asked as he took his place at the desk across from hers.

"Absolutely fantastic, 90's in every class, except math but she nearly made it. She had an 88 in that class but that's her struggle subject, and I'm going to work with her on it. You know she got 104 overall average in English? She does all the extra credit, so they couldn't put it on the report card of course because the system only allows grades 0 to 100, but still, 104!" He exclaimed, spinning his chair around excitedly.

"Wow, that's great! What did her teachers say?" Emily asked, taking another sip of her coffee.

Spencer's attitude immediately became more serious, and he glanced around secretively, pulling his chair in closer to the desk and leaning across it to speak, "A lot of her teachers told me what a great student she is, and how well she's doing. She takes interest in the classes and has good work ethic," His voice dropped to a whisper, "The thing is, they've asked me to talk to her about accelerating her even more. Some of the teachers feel she's getting bored with the classes, they're too easy for her. She could start taking senior classes and graduate as early as the end of the year, although she would have to take mid terms and SATs this year late," Spencer informed her quickly, flicking his eyebrows up and leaning back into his chair.

"That's great, have you told her yet?"

"No, I'm not so sure…" He mumbled, glancing at his desk.

"Not sure of what, Reid?"

"She's a member of the sophomore class, taking all junior classes. She'd be graduating from high school at 16, she won't even have a real license yet," He explained, his tone becoming more troubled.

"You were only 12 when you graduated, she'd only be two years younger than the seniors, that's not much," Emily tried to assure him, now understanding where his worry was coming from, "And John is a junior in a few senior classes, he'd watch out for her."

Spencer sighed and picked up a file from the stack on his desk, "Yeah, well, I'll talk to her," He looked up as Sara exited Hotch's office, mindful to shut the door behind her before heading towards them, "Later," He added, giving her a pointed look. Emily nodded and resumed her work.

"Morning Emily," Sara greeted her cheerfully, pulling over a free chair so she was seated where the front of Spencer's desk met Prentiss' desk, "I got my report card last night, 95.3 overall average," She grinned. Emily recalled a conversation she and the younger Reid had shared the previous year about how unusual it was for Sara to get so much attention for her good marks. In the time of her mother, she had gotten little to no praise, except on the occasions where her mother would sober up for a while.

"Yeah, your brother was just gushing about it, nice job kid," She praised, pausing her work momentarily.

"Garcia said she was going to bake me a cake or something," Sara laughed, "So what are you working on?" She asked, folding the paper and placing it into her bag between several hard cover books.

"Oh, you know, case reports and field assessment write-ups, it never ends," Emily said, rolling her eyes.

"Fun," Sara nodded, twisting the seat of her chair back and forth a few times before stopping to face her brother, "Spence, Hotch asked if I wanted to take a field trip," She said.

"Fieldtrip? With Hotch? Where?" He asked in quick succession.

"Yes. Yes. To D.C. to see an agent Cooper. I'm intern-ing," She answered.

Spencer frowned and glanced up again at the office door where Hotch had just appeared, "I owe her one," He called, that being his way of explanation as he started down the stairs. Sara tilted her head to the side and stuck out her lower lip.

"Please?" She asked sweetly.

"Yeah kid, please?" Morgan laughed.

Reid sighed, "Fine, but no guns and no unsubs," He warned his sister.

"Awesome, thanks Spence," She grinned. Sara grabbed her bag and joined up with the team's leader before heading out of the glass BAU doors towards the elevator, trying to keep in-stride with the supervisory special agent.

"I wonder how she pulled that one," JJ pondered, the liaison passed between the groups of desks, file in hand.

"Good grades, a winning personality, and being a better shot than most FBI agents will get you places," Rossi smiled, getting up from his desk.

"We have a case, guys, we're leaving for San Francisco as soon as Hotch and... Reid get back," JJ informed them, a smirk playing on her face, "We'll get briefed on the jet."

Good grades, a winning personality and being a better shot than most FBI agents would definitely get her places, Emily thought of Sara Reid, maybe even a nice office in the FBI someday. She smiled to herself and wondered what the serious profiler and the easy-going high school sophomore/junior/potential senior would talk about on the car ride to D.C.


	94. Chapter 94

_Author's note: Episode 5x18 _

"From a biological viewpoint, if species evolve it is not a reaction to necessity, but rather that the population contains variations of traits that favor their natural selection. The fossil record demonstrates how-"

"Sara, I'm sorry but I have no idea what you're talking about," Hotch interrupted me. I was in the passenger seat of one of the black FBI SUV's driving to a training gym in D.C. with Hotch on my first FBI field trip since going to Las Vegas the previous year.

"Right, sorry," I said, glancing out the window.

"It's fine," Hotch assured me, the corner of his mouth tilting up a little.

"So, who's this Agent Cooper?" I asked, rather than start talking about evolutionary theories again.

"An old friend. He leads the BAU's Red Cell Team."

"Oh, so he's like a Hotch?"

"Like a Hotch?" Hotch asked, looking at me skeptically.

"Well, I've met lots of other agents, but I haven't met another team leader before. Hence, Other Hotch," I explained quickly.

"Ok then, he's another Hotch, but I don't think you'll find much in common between us," He laughed, pulling into a parking lot outside what appeared to be a somewhat run down warehouse. There was a cement wall encompassing the parking lot covered in graffiti. I set my bag on the floor of the SUV before hopping out onto the pavement.

I followed Hotch towards an open door of the warehouse, I could hear music filtering through from inside. "Inconspicuous," I commented, taking a last look at the outside of the building.

"Cooper's pretty relaxed, he likes to keep a low profile," Hotch shrugged. I had to agree, the inside of the warehouse looked like what you might expect, with a little less. It was one open room with some punching bags hung in each of the corners. In the center of the room was a large blue mat, and a small radio. Two burly men were sparring on the mat, one of the two, who was wearing a green shirt was holding a plastic knife. The second man had just floored him, and the first got up, laughed, and came after him again. The place had the distinct smell of sweat, even more potent than in the school gym. Within forty seconds the second man had floored green-shirt again, and was now the owner of the plastic knife.

"Cool," I said to myself.

"Hotch," The victor greeted. I noted that his left eyelid drooped a little.

"Cooper," Hotch smiled. Cooper smiled and bent down to shut of the radio, "You never were one for offices," He commented.

"Medical condition, I'm allergic to bureaucracy," He joked, picking up a towel to dry his face with. "Thanks for coming Hotch, who's your friend?" Cooper asked, pointing his chin towards me.

"Cooper, this is Sara Reid, sister of a colleague. Sara plans on joining the bureau one day," Hotch introduced.

"Nice to meet you," Cooper nodded, shaking my hand and Hotch's.

"You too sir," I said quietly.

"I don't have long, we're leaving on a case," Hotch said, turning to business.

"I know, San Francisco. I hear things," Said Cooper.

"So what's going on?" Hotch seemed almost pleasant talking to Cooper.

"How much you know about this case you're working?"

"I'm on my way in to look at the files," Hotch replied, walking towards the door with Cooper. I followed behind, paying close attention.

"Can I give you a preview?" Cooper asked.

"Sure."

Agent Cooper went to a locker room housed in an adjoining building to change into something not soaked in sweat. Hotch and I leaned against the SUV to wait for him. I could remember the first time I'd met Agent Hotchner, he hadn't changed much since, if anything he looked more tired now than he had back then. Stress can do that to people I'd heard. I wondered when Spencer would start to look tired, he'd aged considerably since we'd met, and I couldn't help but feel a little responsible. When Cooper returned, Hotch and I followed him in the SUV to a bar called 'Mug Shots,' which I found pretty funny.

"I'm not allowed in here," I said, hesitating at the door.

"I'm part owner; my bar, my rules," Cooper shrugged, holding the door open for me. I looked at him questioningly, raising an eyebrow, "We're closed and I don't plan on selling you any alcohol," He added. I nodded and followed Hotch inside, laughing a little to myself.

Hotch and Cooper took seats along the bar and I slid into a red leather booth, blocking out the details of the case. I did gather that fourteen year old brunette girls and fathers were being abducted at the same time the bodies of homeless men would start showing up. The bodies of the males would have blunt force trauma and defensive wounds, while the girls and some of the men had gunshot wounds.

"Are you actually going to disobey Strauss?" I asked as soon as I was back in the SUV.

Hotch shut his door and adjusted the rearview mirror before answering, "Director Strauss likes protocol. It's how she functions. She was never a field agent so she's not very good at deviating from what she thinks someone should do."

"So you're going to disobey Strauss?" I asked again.

"A little," He shrugged, "If there is a connection between these murders we need his team working on the case with us.

"So… how come I got a field trip?" I asked.

"It's a pretty boring drive from the BAU to D.C. and back, I wanted some company," He stated plainly.

I looked at him expectantly for another moment or two, "That's it?"

"Pretty much, you're fun to talk to," He nodded, driving into the type of area I'd expected our trip to be to- lots of tall, shiny buildings, people in suits, and SUV's.

"Thanks," I laughed, "Glad to be of service, sir."

-A few hours earlier-

_ 'Sara Reid is in the habit of trying to prove herself, to make herself valuable, whether she knows it or not' Hotch thought, glancing out his office window at the girl. She was showing off her grades to the team, and he suspected she'd be visiting him soon as well. 'She knows that the team cares about her, but she's still in the mindset of having to earn any attention or affection she gets- through her grades or taking an interest in the FBI. She needs to feel appreciated for being herself.' _

_There was a knock at the office doorway and the younger Reid stuck her head in the door, "You busy? I got my report card," She said, stepping fully into view._

_"Sure," He said, smiling a little as he looked over the marks which were very nearly perfect. He handed the report card back to her, "If you don't have anything to do, I was wondering if you'd take a drive over to D.C. with me. We've got a case in San Francisco and I need to see a friend of mine before we leave, Agent Cooper."_

_"Really?" She asked excitedly, then composed herself, "Yeah, that'd be great, I'll ask Spencer," Before hurrying out the door. _

_Hotch smiled to himself and started to pack up his briefcase, 'Definately didn't get much attention when she was younger,' he thought, remembering a year earlier when The Reids met their father again for the first time in at least a decade. He didn't know if Sara or Spencer were on speaking terms with William Reid, but he doubted it. 'She's still looking for that father figure she lost as a child. That's why she always tries to prove herself to Morgan or Rossi or Spencer or me,' He profiled. 'She needn't worry, she earned my respect a long time ago. Even before Foyet.'_


	95. Chapter 95

_Author's note: Thanksgiving, after episode 5x19_

"This year?" I repeated dumbly, staring wide-eyed at my brother.

"If you want, you could graduate at the end of the school year, yes," He nodded. He was hunched over in his arm-chair, elbows on his knees, watching me I intently.

"I'm… um…" I tried to form a coherent sentence, but my mind had gone blank. My knees were pulled up to my chin and I sat staring back at my brother. "You mean I really could?" I succeeded in asking.

"When you get back to school after Thanksgiving the guidance office could rewrite your class schedule and sign you up for any exams you'd need to take, so yes, if you want," He explained slowly, running a hand through his hair.

"I really could," I whispered mostly to myself, "I really, really could," Suddenly very proud of myself, and at the same time incredibly scared of this great possibility.

"I mean, you could just as easily stay in high school and graduate with your class," Spencer added quickly, rocking in his chair. I stayed with my chin firmly on my knees, thinking. The two of us sat there in silence for several minutes before the phone interrupted the quiet. "I'll get it," He volunteered, looking at me skeptically.

"Hello?.. Yes she's here… I'm not sure, Morgan…Yes that's very nice but… Fine, hang on..." Spencer said into the phone. "Sara, Morgan wants to talk to us, how do you set the phone to speaker?" He asked, turning the phone over in his hands to look for the correct button.

"Honestly," I rolled my eyes and pressed the button clearly marked 'SPKR.' "Hey Derek," I said.

"Baby Doll, Kid, Rossi just called and he's having Thanksgiving at his place for all the people without giant families to see for the holiday. He can't stand the thought of Reid starving his Princess, so you two are invited," Said Morgan, the speaker making his voice crackle a little with static.

"Sure Derek, tell him we're coming," I smiled; grateful Spencer and I wouldn't have to try to figure out turkey again. Last year we'd ended up with microwaved Chinese takeout.

"Great, see you kids Thursday," Morgan laughed before he hung up.

"I love how he treats us like little kids," I said sarcastically, replacing the phone on the charger, "Kind of like how you're going to try to treat me when I tell you I think I want to graduate this year," I said quickly.

"Wait, what did you say?" Spencer asked, leaning against the kitchen counter.

"I'll talk to the guidance counselor first, but I think I want to accelerate or move up or whatever you called it, I want to graduate this year," I said again.

"Don't you want to graduate with your class? What about your friends? You're not acquainted with any seniors that I know of!" Spencer tried to reason with me, his face flushing a little. "You're young, you should enjoy you school friends and dances and boyfriends and things!" He said, waving his hands for emphasis.

"I can go back to visit my friends, graduates come back all the time. This is exactly what I was just saying; you don't want me to graduate because of my age!" I said, putting my hands on my hips.

"Why don't you just think about it?" Spencer said, a little more loudly than he'd meant.

"Fine, fine. I will think about it," I shrunk back, "I'm… going to go read or something."

And I thought about it for the next 43 hours and 11 minutes, but I didn't change my mind. It wasn't brought up again; in fact, Spencer and I hardly talked about anything of importance until we got to Rossi's house for Thanksgiving dinner.

"Welcome! Welcome!" Rossi greeted us with his the extravagance he reserved for lectures, book signings and holiday gatherings. "Come in you two, how are you Princess?" He asked, shutting out the cold wind with a loud 'click' as the huge engraved wooden front door of Rossi's house (closer to a mansion to me) shut behind us.

I suppose it's important to mention how entirely massive Rossi's house is. Being an ex-marine, bestselling author and FBI agent, it was very well established in my mind at least that _this_ was the pinnacle of what anyone could ask for (as far as worldly possessions go). The house itself had a very clean, white exterior. The lawns, which were expansive, were mowed and landscaped carefully by what I assumed must be very expensive lawn care professionals. Inside there were three stories, including a finished attic. There was not a speck of dust to be found anywhere unless you went in Rossi's den, where he spent most of his time, so his cleaning grew didn't disturb it. Anyone who knew him could easily tell that Rossi lived there, but the house didn't give the impression that it was very lived in, probably due to the huge size of the house, as well as the amount of time the owner spent travelling.

"Very well Uncle Dave, how are you?" I answered, hugging him in greeting. Spencer shook hands with him, and hung up our coats on the row of pegs stuck into the foyer walls.

"Just fine, just fine. The gang's all here, come on in and find a comfortable spot," He motioned us down the hall where I could hear someone laughing, probably Garcia. Spencer and I followed our host down two steps and into his living room. Through a large glass double door I could see his dining room table, and through another was the kitchen which was mostly white tile and stainless steel.

"Hey, Happy Thanksgiving!" Derek called.

"You too Morgan," I said, sinking into a spot on the leather couch beside him.

"What's new with you my darling? It has been absolutely forever since I've seen you!" Garcia exclaimed, which was true as far as Penelope and I go. I hadn't been to her tech-lair to visit in an entire three days, so it had been a long time.

Now was one of those relatively uncomfortable times when I, being the youngest and therefore most important person in the room, become the center of attention. And, since it had been the only thing I'd been able to think about for almost two days, I said, "Well, I might be able to graduate this year," And looking pointedly at my brother, "But _we're_ still thinking about it." Of course there was a general uproar of surprise from the group, though I noticed that Emily didn't seemed to shocked by this news, so I guessed my brother had talked to her already. Spencer and I both thought of Emily with a lot of respect, so we both trusted her with things like this.

Eventually Emily, Derek and I went to the kitchens to get food while the rest of the group set up the table, or at least I thought that's what the rest of them were doing. When the three of us returned from the practically perfect kitchen, laden with practically perfect Rossi-prepared food, only Garcia was at the table. I set the bowl of dinner rolls and butter as close to me as possible and sat down, just as Rossi and Spencer entered the room from the direction of the den. I raised an eyebrow at Spencer and he sat down across from me, shaking his head.

So we were all seated, Rossi at the head of the table, me on his right beside Emily and Garcia, and Spencer and Derek on his left. Since it was his house, his table and his turkey, Rossi carved the turkey meticulously and with flair, if that's even possible, Rossi had succeeded in both. The table was quiet for a while, with the exception of forks and knives clattering and bumping against plates until Rossi cleared his throat and looked up from his second helping. "It's a shame that it's fallen out of practice, so I think we should share what we're thankful for, how's that sound kids?" Dave chuckled, taking a sip of his wine. "I'll even go first. I am thankful for this big warm group of people seated around my table, this delicious meal and the help I got preparing it," He smiled down the table at Emily and Derek, "And for not be thought of as 'too old' to hang out with the young people."

Garcia decided that she was next and started in very quickly, "I am so thankful that I know every single one of you lovely people, and our fearless leader and our dear JJ, even though both of them are off with their own families at the moment. But we're still they're family too, and I'm thankful that I have such a loving, brave family to spend the holiday with. And I'm thankful every single day when my babies come home to me from their adventures, and for when my Pixie comes to visit me," She said, beaming at everyone around the table.

Derek smiled at her across the table, "I'm thankful for my baby girl, for Emily, Reid, Baby Reid, Hotch and JJ, and even you Rossi. I'm thankful for my Mama and two sisters back in Chicago, and I'm glad I can be here with all you."

"I guess I'm grateful for the team and having a job that I love, as hard as it is sometimes. I'm thankful I've made it this far, and that we can all be here together," Emily said shortly.

Spencer looked at me long and hard across the table before speaking, "I am thankful for this team, and how you have treated me all these years. I'm thankful for my Mom back in Las Vegas, and I am thankful every day for my sister Sara. It's nice to have someone to sit and read with and talk with. I'm also grateful for the opportunity she has received to graduate this year, and that I am able to support her if she chooses to take it." He smiled at me a little across the table and nodded. My heart swelled and I smiled back at him, he was going to let me graduate!

"I'm thankful for my family. My family is the best family I could ask for, and I mean this family right here. I'm thankful too for the good times that I had with Mom, and that I ended up here when those times ended. I'm even thankful for Dad, and I think I might even call him tomorrow. And I'm very thankful for my brother. You all took me in, but he's my brother, and I'm happy to spend my time with him and trying to make him proud. It's good to have someone there for you, even someone that's busy a lot of the time. That's ok, I'm just glad he's around to take care of me."

A long time after the dinner had ended, pies had been served and dishes been washed, Emily and Garcia were lounging on the large leather couch wishing they hadn't eaten so much, though they'd enjoyed every bite of the meal. Just past them was the large wooden staircase with its huge railing. The railing had been calling to the more playful people in the bunch, that being Derek Morgan and Sara Reid, and after their stomachs settled they had perched at the top of the stair, debating whether or not to slide down it just yet. Sitting close by were the more scholarly, Spencer Reid and David Rossi, talking quietly about the younger of the two Reids.

"Thanks for earlier," Said Spencer, turning to the elder.

"No thanks necessary," Nodded Rossi.

"I don't think I could have stopped her from trying anyways, but I wanted her to know that I was going to support her no matter what," The older brother sighed. Earlier that evening during Reid and Rossi's brief absence, the older of the pair had been hard at work convincing Reid to let his sister graduate early, since that is what she so clearly wanted.

"But," Said the older profiler, knowing there was more, of course.

"I don't know-"

"That's a first," Rossi laughed, and Spencer joined in, remembering a time a very long while ago when his sister had said the same thing, very soon after they first met.

"I'm just not ready to let her grow up," Spencer admitted sadly.

"Rossi, can we slide down your stair railing?" Derek called from the top of the steps.

"Go ahead," He answered without any thought; Rossi wanted his house to be enjoyed, even if it meant scratches in the very expensive railings. Barely a moment later a figure went flying by on the railing and landed with a more or less steady footing at the bottom.

"Come on kid, your turn!" Derek called up the stairs. There was a nervously excited squeal, and a moment later a small blonde figure flew down the rail, straight into the profiler's arms, and both were knocked to the floor, laughing loudly.

"I don't think you need to worry about her growing up for a good long while," Laughed Rossi, clapping Spencer on the shoulder as the older Reid went to check on the condition of 'his little girl.'


	96. Chapter 96

_Author's note: Sorry this took so long, I've tried to write everyday this past week but it ended up taking longer than expected, I'll try to write a lot more this weekend. Hope you all still enjoy these, as always, reviews are appreciated and thanks for reading! Episode 5x20._

The team left for Tallahassee the day after Thanksgiving, so I knew I wouldn't be seeing Spencer for the rest of the weekend. I had eaten a celebratory bowl of ice-cream for brunch to congratulate myself on getting permission to graduate early. So far it had been a pretty good day. For the past fifteen minutes I had been watching television upside-down on the couch, my feet dangling over the back and my hair just touching the floor. Maybe it was the blood rush to the head, but I suddenly remembered what I had said the day before at Thanksgiving dinner, "I'm even thankful for Dad, and I think I might even call him tomorrow." Despite what may be popular opinion, I still didn't know too much about dealing with estranged Fathers.

I sat up unsteadily as my blood returned to its proper areas and rolled off the couch. With some hesitation I picked up the phone and dialed the number for Kierschenbaum, Wieder and Moore Law firm. Unlike most people, I memorize a lot of phone numbers, and this was one of those. I sighed and leaned against the kitchen counter as the call went through.

"Kierschenbaum, Wieder and Moore, how may I help you today?" Asked a man on the other end and I wondered briefly what had happened to the woman secretary that had answered the phone the only other time I had called Dad's workplace.

"Hello, I'd like to speak with Mr. William Reid please," I said, using the same tone I had heard JJ use many times during cases.

"Certainly, may I ask who is calling?"

"Miss Jane Gideon," I said promptly, borrowing some of the old profiler's name.

"One moment Miss Gideon," He said. Some depressing acoustic version of a familiar song came through the line as I was put on hold and I examined my fingernails while the call transferred.

"William Reid," Dad answered.

I took a quick calming breath, "Yeah, hi, it's Sara… Reid," I said nervously.

I heard Dad say something to someone, probably the secretary, before answering, "Oh, hello Sara, is something wrong?" He asked worriedly.

"No, nothing's wrong."

"Good, good, just making sure. Um, you know you could use your real name when you call here, right?" Dad asked.

I ignored the question, "So, happy Thanksgiving," I said, feeling nervous again and twisting the phone cord in my hand.

"Yes, how was yours?" Dad asked, the surprise of hearing from me still clear in his voice.

"Fine, Spencer and I ate with a few of his colleges at David Rossi's house, I think you remember him?" I said, scowling at the memory of the last time I had seen my father in person.

"That's good. So, what's going on with you two?" He asked, sounding hopeful to keep me on the phone for a while.

"Well, Spence- Spencer is on a case. I thought I'd call you to tell you about school stuff, I guess," I explained awkwardly.

"Good, he's good at his job. Yeah, how is school?"

"Um, I'm going to graduate this year," I said quickly, wondering if he remembered what grade I was in.

"Really? That's great Sara; I always knew you'd be bright!" He praised. I didn't answer for a moment, thinking about how much time he might have thought about me in those years he was gone.

"Well, thanks. How's your work?" I asked, doing my best to be polite.

"Busy, busy as usual, but I enjoy it." '_More than staying with me and Mom?' _I quickly shook that thought from my mind, trying to remember that I didn't hate my Dad anymore, that I was going to make an effort to be friends with him at least.

"Well, that's good," I nodded, switching the phone to my other ear.

"Hey, I was just thinking… well maybe you should wait until Spencer is around…" Dad said, sounding more like he was speaking to himself.

"What?"

"I was just wondering, if you two aren't busy, maybe you'd like to some visit some time? I'm sure Diana would like to see Spencer. And I would like to catch up with both of you," Dad said earnestly, sounding really genuine.

"Um, I'm not sure, Dad. Maybe, but I'll ask Spencer first, ok?" I said, getting very nervous again.

"Oh, of course," He said hurriedly.

"Yep, well, it was uh… nice talking to you Dad."

"Yes, it was really nice talking to you Sara, call again sometime, alright?" Dad said, sounding a little sad.

"Sure. Bye." And I hung up. I checked the phone screen which read '_Called Ended 3:12.' _I'd stayed on the phone for an entire three minutes without having anything incredibly serious to tell him, good for me. So I went for a walk.

The air outside the apartment was crisp and clean, floating leaves through the air along with it. I rattled my keys in my pocket for the first block before turning toward Main Street, watching for cars in the road. Four months and 23 days, I still hadn't broken the habit of watching for Foyet. I walked quickly, the heels of my converse scraping the pavement in that brisk way that reminded most people of Spencer. I stopped for a moment in front of one of the shop windows to catch a look at myself in the reflection, and turned my collar up against the wind, and kept walking.

"Reid!" A voice called out. I looked around, startled by the noise. "Sara, hey!" I turned to see John hurrying towards me, the hood of his jacket covering most of his hair.

"Hey John," I greeted him happily; glad to see a friendly face.

"How are you darling?" He asked, deepening his accent and kissing me hello.

"Better now, thanks," I grinned. "What are you doing out?"

"Thought I'd take a look around the town, take the bike out for a ride," He nodded toward the end of the street. Sitting under one of the trees was a Harley Davidson Sportster; the wheels looked like the only new thing about the bike.

"It's yellow," I smirked.

"It's yellow," He agreed, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose, "But it's mine."

And so, hand in hand, we walked, and we talked. "So, you're really going to graduate this year then?" John asked, a mixture of pride and sadness in his voice, though he wore a smile.

"Yeah," I nodded, putting my free hand into my pocket to hold the key ring again.

"So, you're going to find colleges and leave next year or something?" He asked.

"Leave? Why would I leave?" I asked, a little worriedly.

"I don't know, it's just what people do," John shrugged.

"I suppose," I nodded, "But not me, I don't leave, not for a long time, maybe never," I assured him, smiling up at him.

We walked in silence for several more minutes, fingers interlaced, our hands swinging back and forth between us. We passed all the shops I usually walked around and started nearing the little park, but kept walking. I was suprised by how quiet the street was, since it was Black Friday, but then again these weren't the type of stores to have huge blowout sales. I watched carefully the brown and red leaves with the furled edges flutter down from trees and scrape along the sidewalk, trying to cling to the pavement and take shelter from the wind. "You know, I was walking on the other side of the road from you for a while, but you didn't notice. You looked sad," John said, glancing down at me with his big green eyes.

"I wasn't sad," I lied.

"You look sad when you don't think people are watching," He said, raising an eyebrow at me. I shrugged and held his hand a little tighter to let him know I was alright.

A half an hour later John walked me back to the apartment building and I watched him ride off on his motorcycle, smiling to myself. He was one of the people I was thankful for too, John didn't profile me, or judge me, he was just there when I needed him. Because as much as I needed the team around, I wanted to have someone like John LaMontagne around too.


	97. Chapter 97

_Author's note: So sorry for making excuses, I've been suffering writer's block in the worst way, but it's better now and I'm already working on the next chapter. Also, any prompts or suggestions are appreciated, as well as Reviews._

Two hours in the guidance counselor's office and six packets of course work and exam information later, I was watching the library clock move slowly towards 3:20. Other than a few comments from the librarian, Miss James, my day had been pretty quiet. The guidance counselor, Mrs. Brown, had explained that in order for me to catch up to the senior classes, I would have to do some independent accelerated studying, which meant banishment to the library. Today I'd devoted myself to history catch-up, I'd read the equivalent of two weeks of material in four hours. I'm a fast reader and the chapters are short, what can I say?

I was just wondering if I should take a walk to the drinking fountain and back to kill time when the bell rang, barely audible from my spot behind the bookshelves. "Finally," I sighed in relief, closing my textbook with a satisfying thud. I stretched and stood up from the well-worn paisley carpet which had probably been there for upwards of twenty years, shoving my books and pencils into my bag and heading towards the door.

"See you tomorrow," Said Miss James without looking up from her book.

"Bye," I responded, pushing open the glass door and stepping into the hallway.

The sudden clamor of the world outside of the library was a little disorienting when compared to the near silence within the library. I settled my bag more firmly on my shoulder and pushed past the group of people to get to the stairs. Just as I was wondering how I was supposed to get home, to my surprise, I spotted Derek Morgan looking over the school bulletin board.

"Morgan?" I called over the din of the hallway.

"Hey Glasses, how's my favorite senior?" He replied, holding out a hand to take my bag. I smirked at the surprised looks we drew from the female population of the hallway.

"Fine Derek, what are you doing here?" I asked, following the agent toward the back exit of the school.

"I told Pretty-Boy I'd pick you up today, he's a little under the weather," Derek explained, holding the backdoor of the building open and walking into the cold wind in the parking lot. Since 'under the weather' usually meant a head ache, or skull splitting migraine, I wondered how I would be able to get Spencer to eat something for dinner later. Great. Derek drove me home in less than fifteen minutes, chatting about his dog Clooney and my day in the library.

I waved goodbye to Morgan and let the building's door swing shut behind me, hurrying up the two flights of stairs and down the hall to the apartment door. I found it unlocked and stepped inside, dropping my backpack and coat in the narrow hall and looking into the living room where I could see Spencer working on his laptop, he was evidently feeling better.

"Hey Spence, how do you feel?" I asked, keeping my voice down in case he still had a headache.

"Fine, fine, how was your day?" He responded, not looking up from the screen.

"Quiet," I answered, sitting down in my arm-chair.

"Oh," He nodded, still not looking up from his screen.

We sat in silence, me watching him and him watching the computer.

"So what are you looking at?" I blurted out several minutes later.

"What? Oh, sorry," Spencer said, looking embarrassed and setting the laptop on the coffee table, "So, I've been thinking about something lately that I'd like to ask you about," He told me nervously.

"What's up?" I asked, getting up to sit beside him on the couch and knocking my knee on the table as I passed.

Spencer ran a hand through his hair and slouched forward, massaging the back of his neck, "Sara, what would you think about moving to a bigger apartment?" He asked, looking at me earnestly.

"Move? Why?" I asked, raising my eyebrows in alarm.

"I was just thinking that we could use some more space. It'd be nice to have some privacy around here, Emily tells me that teenage girls like privacy," He explained, picking up a couch pillow and examining it closely. "And also, the neighborhood I was looking at is closer to the colleges and universities than this place is. And in a bigger apartment you'd have much more room than you would in a dorm, believe me," He added quickly.

"So you're serious about this?" I asked, sinking back into the couch.

"It's as much your decision as mine, but… I think it could be a good thing to do," Spencer nodded.

"And um, this would have nothing to do with you not wanting me to move away to college next year, right?" I asked quietly.

"What?" Spencer asked, looking at me in confusion, which was an answer in itself.

"Nothing," I smiled, "So what apartments have you been looking at?"

Spencer smiled and picked up the laptop and turned the screen towards me, "See, this one is called The Shelby Building, and it has a garage, a laundry room, and high-speed internet. There are also some loft apartments close by there, I thought you could take the upstairs and have your own bathroom, and I could take the downstairs. Some of these places have pools and courtyards…"

Two hours later and a lot of saved pages later, I was reheating some chicken and Spencer was sorting through school papers, his not mine. Between work and spending time with me, he was also somehow working on another degree in Philosophy. "They're only partially burnt today," I announced happily. Despite my best efforts, I could never figure out how long to set the stove for.

"Smells fine," Spencer shrugged, straightening his pile of school work.

"Hopefully our new apartment will have a bigger kitchen, then maybe the food will turn out the right way," I laughed, setting Spencer's plate in front if him.

"Why would that make your cooking improve?" Spencer asked, cutting off the burnt part of his food and digging into the rest.

"If we had a nicer kitchen I might be more motivated to learn to cook properly," I explained.

"So, you're happy about moving?" Spencer asked me again.

"I'll be happier when we have an apartment to actually move into, but yes," I affirmed.

"Great, we could start looking at places this weekend, Morgan offered to help."

"Why Derek?" I asked though my chicken.

"He owns three houses."

"More like mansions, no way is he helping us find an apartment," I laughed.

So I went to bed that night with the French Revolution and World War 1 in my head, looking forward to another library day, and shopping for homes all weekend long, as long as no serial killers delayed our plans.


	98. Chapter 98

_Author's note: Episode 5x21 reviews still appreciated_

"JJ, that's not the point!" Emily said earnestly, a fresh cup of coffee in her hand. She, JJ and Penelope (who was currently shopping for something down the street) had extended a rare invitation for me to go out with them, and I had gladly accepted.

"Well, are you going to call him?" JJ asked, rolling her eyes.

"Maybe," Emily grimaced.

"Emily!" JJ and I groaned in protest. After checking out Mick Rawson's file a few weeks ago, I wanted Prentiss to call the agent as much as JJ did.

"Mick Rawson is an arrogant, over-sexed, egotistical-"

"Hot, British dude with a sexy accent, badge and gun. He's just your type," JJ interrupted.

"With those credentials, he's anyone's type," I laughed, taking a sip of my coffee.

"It wouldn't go anywhere!" Emily insisted.

"You don't know that," JJ argued.

It was Emily's turn to roll her eyes, "I know our work schedule."

"Ok, you know what? Will and I make it work," JJ reminded her, flicking her eyebrows up in challenge.

Prentiss was about to make a rebuttal when the three of us spotted a certain orange-haired tech analyst toting no less than 12 shopping bags, more than surprising since we'd only been gone twenty minutes.

JJ gave her a nervous look, "Oh no."

"I know, I know, I know, don't say it. See what's in here and it's not my fault I swear, they were calling to me, I swear! And they were all on sale, and when you think about it that means I'm helping the economy, which is more than I can say for you guys since no one else has bags," Garcia rambled to a stop.

"Yeah, please tell me those aren't all for my son," JJ said pleadingly.

"They're not," Garcia shook her head, holding up two bags, "This is for Pixie, and this is for Kevin," She said, handing me the larger of the two. The three of us snickered as I slung the new purchase over my shoulder, "What? It's my duty as a fairy god mother to spoil the child, and Henry's finally old enough to be fun and open presents," Penelope insisted, "And I am not taking them back, now give me my coffee and no one gets hurt.

"Does that mean that Spencer has to teach Henry sports? Being the fairy god father and all," I laughed.

Emily grinned and handed Garcia her coffee, "Half caff, extra shot, two pump not fat, hold the whipped, caramel macchiato?"

"Exactly."

And it was that moment that JJ's beeper decided to go off. "Time to go to the BAU ladies. Sorry, you're coming with us Sara," she frowned.

"Huh, maybe I should get a cat," Emily mused. So the four of us piled the endless bags of gifts for Henry into JJ's car and started the drive back to Quantico.

"Whoa!" Emily exclaimed, taking a look at Rossi as he entered the conference room in a black tie suit, and looking fairly frustrated.

"Sorry to ruin your night," Hotch said, sounding only a little apologetic.

"What are you working on, wife number four?" Morgan grinned. I grimaced and shoved him in the shoulder.

"Ew," I whispered.

"I see you people way too much," Said Rossi, shaking his head as he took a seat at the round table.

I glanced at Spencer's case report as JJ began, "Alright, the Anchorage field office is asking us to investigate a series of murders in Franklin Alaska. There's three people dead in less than a week."

"For a town with a population of 1,476, that's fairly significant," Chimed in my brother.

"Over zero point two percent of the population," I commented, drawing glances from a few team members.

"Sara," Hotch said, not looking up from his file.

"What? Oh, right, sorry," I mumbled quickly, recognizing the stern voice. "Bye guys," I said, and hurried out of the room, blushing profusely.

I heard JJ begin to say, "It's their first murder investigation on record," as I shut the door behind me. Just a few minutes later the team was filing out again, towards their desks to get their go-bags I presumed.

"So it's you and me while the team's in Alaska then? I'm sure we can find Prentiss a cat before they get back," I said happily, following Penelope towards her office.

"That, unfortunately, is a no my dear," She replied, heading towards her office.

"What do you mean?" I asked, following her down the brightly lit hall, her heels clicking against the linoleum.

"Hotch wants me to go too, I'm in charge of the satellite uplink, as I have been told," She explained, arriving at her office door.

"Oh, well, ok. I'll miss you," I smiled.

"And I you, my darling. See you soon," She smiled back, giving me a hug, "Now go say goodbye to your darling genius brother."

"Have fun," I laughed, turning back towards the BAU area.

Fun, however, she did not have. About a day after the team arrived in Alaska I got a very fuzzy and static filled call from Morgan. A man had been attacked by the unsub, and had died in Penelope's arms. And that, of course, is when the overwhelming surge of dread came. In such a small area, I was now terrified about the team being so close to the unsub, and with so many connections between people there, it could be anyone without the team knowing. So I didn't sleep well that night. Like I had told Roy Coulson not so long ago, it's not easy having the most stable thing in your life be the least stable thing in your life at the same time.

A day and a half later I was curled up on the couch with some blankets and the TV on, and heard the tumblers turning on the front door lock. I extricated myself from the cocoon and padded over to the front door just as Spencer walked in, looking disheveled and rubbing his forehead.

"Hey Spencer, how's Garcia? And you too, and everyone? I was really worried when Morgan called and I didn't want you guys so close to an unsub like that," I said as soon as he set down his bag and coat.

Spencer, who didn't seem to be listening, said, "Oh, hi Sara," And continued to massage his temples.

"Is she alright though? I was so worried about you guys!" I told him, following him into the living room.

"Yeah, Garcia's fine," Spencer answered tiredly as he dropped onto the couch and put his head back.

"I couldn't really focus yesterday in school after Morgan called, I'm glad you're all alright-"

"Sara, can you please stop talking?" Spencer snapped, pressing his hands over his eyes.

"Yeah, yeah, I just want to make sure you're-" I started to say.

"Please! Just make yourself scarce, my head," He said loudly, pressing hard against his forehead.

And then I was angry, "Fine, I'm going to Emily's. See you tomorrow," I announced, walking to my room, picking up my bag and returning to the living room. I stood and looked at my brother for a moment, he was covering his eyes again, his hair pushed back from his face. He took no notice of me that I could perceive. "Bye," I said, feeling frustrated. Spencer didn't respond, so I left.

I took the next bus to within a block of Emily's house and started walking, pushing against the cold wind. It occurred to me as I passed the desk in the lobby that I hadn't called ahead, and that Emily was probably tired like Spencer. Either way, I would appreciate the company of someone less irritable.

"Emily? It's Sara," I called through the door of apartment 5C.

I heard a soft thumping draw closer before the door swung open, revealing a barefoot Emily in pajamas and a bath robe. "You can't just call ahead?" She asked, standing aside to let me in.

"Yeah, sorry about that," I grinned sheepishly, kicking my shoes off and setting down my bag in the hall before following her into the living room.

"So, what's wrong Reid?" She asked, patting the spot beside her on the couch.

"The other Reid, that's the problem," I sighed, dropping onto the couch beside her, "Also, do you mind if I stay here tonight?"

"Do you really think that's a good idea?" She smiled sadly.

"I… don't know, I sort of stormed out melodramatically, in a sort of mid-Victorian fashion that I can't say I'm proud of. I was just really worried about you guys… and now I feel really, really, bad," I explained, feeling worse with each word. "He's not feeling well," I added regretfully.

Emily nodded sympathetically, "Ok, how about you stay here for the night, everything will be fine in the morning." She assured me, patting me on the knee. "I'm guessing you didn't bring pajamas?"

That would have been a good idea too, "No, actually. Sorry," I apologized again.

"I thought so," She smiled. "Everything will be alright in the morning," She assured me again, studying the look on my face.

"Thanks Emily."

The next morning I woke up in another cocoon of blankets, the sound of knocking coming from the front door of Emily's apartment. I sniffed and glanced around, and not seeing the owner of the apartment anywhere nearby, got up to answer the door. "Who is it?" I called, pushing my hair back from my face and setting my glasses on the bridge of my nose.

"It's Spencer," A muffled voice called back.

Without hesitation I flung the door open and wrapped my arms around a mildly surprised Spencer Reid, "I'm sorry, I'm sorry," I whispered into his coat.

"It's ok, I'm sorry for upsetting you. I know you worry," He replied, resting his chin on my head.

"Do you feel better now?" I asked, letting go of my brother.

"Much better," He replied, looking like he hadn't slept well last night.

Emily appeared at the bottom of the stairs, "Morning Reids," She greeted us, rubbing the sleep out of her eyes.

"Morning," We greeted her in unison. "Sorry for the trouble last night Emily," Spencer apologized.

"It's no trouble, you know I love having her stay over," Emily smiled reassuringly. "Maybe you two should find a bigger apartment soon. It would probably be easier to have a little privacy if you had more leg room."

"Right, we'll get a bigger place, and you get a cat, or call Mick Rawson," I said, raising my eyebrows.

"Uh huh, so cat shopping, same time next week."


	99. Chapter 99

_Author's note: Beginning of episode 5x22, I hope everyone had a nice Christmas or whatever holiday you may celebrate this time of year. Hope you enjoy :) Reviews appreciated as always. And Happy New Year!_

Another day, another chapter of history, another half hour of staring at a trigonometry workbook, still, I was enjoying my stay in the library. Either way, the distant sound of the school bell ringing at the end of the day brought me a decent amount of joy, today especially. I smiled to myself, stowed a few books in my backpack, and picked myself up from my spot on the library floor. "Goodnight," I called over my shoulder to Miss James before entering the bustle of people in the hall. After fighting my way to my locker and retrieving my coat (actually Spencer's coat) I hurried out the front door of the school.

I had no more stepped out of the building when two strong arms gripped me around the stomach, "How was your day darling?" John asked in my ear, swinging me out of the stream of students.

"It's Trig! It's some kind of elvish but I can't read it!" I exclaimed when he set me down. "How was yours?" I asked, taking his gloved hand in mine.

"Was alright, I hear that uppity girl you don't like is going with my friend Josh though," He informed me.

"Aw, but Josh is nice! What's wrong with him?" I whined, sticking my free hand in my coat pocket.

"Well that's what I said. Anyways, he figures that she's a nice girl with lousy friends, so he's gonna give it a shot," John shrugged. "So, you ready to go shopping for your people?" He asked, motioning to his mother's borrowed car with his right hand.

"I suppose, what about you?"

"Well, I have to find gifts to send back home, but I've got you and my Mom taken care of already," John said casually, holding my door open.

"Oh, and what did you get us?" I asked, arching my eyebrows. John smirked and shrugged in reply, shutting the car door and going around to get in the driver's side. "C'mon, tell me!" I repeated, poking him in the arm.

"Not a chance," He laughed, starting the car. I opened my mouth to ask about my gift again, but John cranked up the radio and drowned me out with Keith Urban.

"I'm so glad we can communicate!" I shouted over the music, grinning at the car ceiling.

"A cutting board set and a neck pillow?"John asked skeptically, dropping my selections into the cart.

"I don't know! It's Rossi, he's tricky."

"That's what you said about Morgan and JJ and Garcia and Henry-"John teased, rifling through the shopping cart.

"I did not say that about Henry! Henry's easy, he's one," I reminded him, rearranging the items again. Derek was getting another Kurt Vonnegut book that I hadn't seen on his bookcase. JJ was getting a few gift cards since she always needed new stuff. Henry was getting this little elephant toy that had wheels on its feet, and Garcia was getting a moving solar-powered flower for her desk.

"Alright, alright, you win!" John conceded, "Where do you get funding for this?"

"From Emily. She gave me some extra money to do Christmas shopping since I didn't have very much 'Christmas' when I was younger," I explained, sifting through the stuff on the store shelves.

"Oh," John nodded, looking at me sadly.

"It's alright though, you know. It's not a big deal anymore," I assured him, bumping him in the arm with my shoulder; "I like it here."

"Good. So what are you getting Hotch and Emily and your brother… and me?" John asked pushing the cart down the aisle.

"Well, you'll have to take a reign check on the last one, but I'm not sure about the rest, I always save the hardest for last. Spencer's in pretty desperate need of a new bag… and a haircut, I need to get after him about that, he looks like a girl."

-The following day-

"It looks ridiculous," Spencer whispered as the hairdresser walked away.

"It's fine, I like it," I rolled my eyes, spinning the chair beside my brother's.

"It's in my face," He complained, jerking his head back and forth.

"It's a fringe and it's fine," I sang.

"Morgan doesn't have this problem."

"Morgan's bald," I reminded him.

"He's not bald, his heads shaved," Said Spencer, continuing to fiddle with his new hair.

"Because he's going bald," I argued.

"I don't think-" Spencer began as his beeper went off.

"Bald," I repeated, getting up from the chair.

Spencer continued to mess with his new haircut as we drove to the FBI, going through security, in the elevator, and going up the stairs to the BAU room. We could see the rest of the team seated around the table and JJ already had case images up on screen.

"-They went missing roughly two months apart," JJ finished as Spencer and I entered the room. "Well, hello," She greeted him, amusement obvious in her voice.

Spencer took a seat at the table and straightened his shirt, oblivious to the looks that the rest of the team were giving him. "What, did you join a boy band?" Hotch asked, turning around completely to look at the boy genius.

"No?" He answered, still confused.

"Ok, so what are we looking at here? Late twenties, early thirties?" Emily asked amongst the giggling from the rest of the group.

"Sara," Hotch said, turning back to the monitor.

I, who had only just stopped my quiet laughing fit, nodded and replied, "Yes, M'Lord," before walking out of the room. Not, of course, before ruffling Spencer's hair, much to his annoyance.

I sat down on one of the chairs in the hall just outside the circle table room and pulled out my phone to text the picture of Spencer that I had taken in the car to John.

_Did the hair lady have a stroke? –JL_

_Very funny, it looks fine –SR_

_He looks like a 19 yr old –JL_

_Good, he usually looks like a 12 yr old –SR_

_Lol, did you get the gifts done? –JL_

_All wrapped. Speaking of which, what'd you get me again? –SR_

_Spoilers sweetie :). gtg –JL_

_Meanie. See you tomorrow (: -SR_

_P.S. Author's note: Hey guys, Happy New Year, I just posted a complete story as the prequel to this one, it's called Taken by Suprise: Prequel to The Journal of Sara Reid. _


	100. Chapter 100

_Author's note: This a pretty long chapter, and my 100th chapter that I've written for this story. I hope you didn't mind my extended writing vacation, I've been doing a lot of planning through to the next season. Happy 2013 Everyone!_

"Spencer?" I called, setting down my pen. For the past half an hour I had been hunched over the kitchen table with a stack of envelopes and an address book beside me.

"Hmm?" Spencer answered without looking up from his current novel. I hadn't bothered to ask the title of this one, it was either in Russian or German.

"Who's that one aunt of yours? I want to send her a Christmas card," I said, picking up another envelope.

"We send out Christmas cards?" Spencer asked, setting the book down on his lap and flicking his hair away from his eyes.

"We did last year," I shrugged.

Spencer gave me a confused look, shook his head and said, "Who do you send them to?"

"The people in your address book," I replied as if it were obvious, holding up the little binder for him to see.

"I don't have an address book," Spencer said, his look of confusion growing.

"Well you do now, I went through all those little scraps of paper and business cards you had in your desk drawer and sorted through it all. Ta-da," I explained, waving the book again. "Now who is that aunt?" I asked again.

Spencer, who was still uncertain about this Christmas card business, continued his interrogation, "Who exactly do we send cards to?" He asked, getting up from his chair to peer over my shoulder.

"Morgan's mom and sisters-"

"You've never met them!"Spencer exclaimed.

"You have. I got the address for Gideon's PO Box, so he'll get one eventually. JJ and Will get one, my friends get one. I tried to send one to Elle Greenaway, but I think she moved or something. And we're sending one to Dad this year."

Spencer straightened up again and ran a hand through his hair, "You talked to him again?"

"Yeah, after Thanksgiving. He… sort of invited us 'round for Christmas… this year," I said quickly, wondering if I should have brought it up at all.

"Are you serious? When did he invite us?" Spencer asked somewhat angrily.

At Thanksgiving, "That's classified information," I said coolly, knowing how much worse this would get if he found out how long I'd know about this.

"We already have plans with the team," He pointed out, a look of relief crossing his face.

"I thought you were going to try to see your Mom sometime soon," I blurted out accidentally.

"What's that got to do with anything?" Spencer asked, his eyebrows knitting together as his frustration returned.

I stood up from my chair to be closer to Spencer's height, "Dad doesn't live that far from your Mom's place. I'm just saying that of you wanted to go see Diana, maybe it wouldn't hurt for us to stop by?" I suggested slowly, looking up to study my brother's expression. He was nervous, because now he was suspecting what I had just realized myself; I sort of wanted to see Dad again. "We don't have to be best friends with the guy… but it's Christmas Spencer, and he's been… really decent when I've talked to him. That's all. We don't even have to be there for Christmas day, we could go a few days before or something."

Spencer POV

"I-" No, absolutely not, Dr. Reid thought, looking down at his sister nervously. So what if it's Christmas? Christmas means family, and he and the team are Sara's family, not Dad. "Do you really need to see him again?"

Sara paused for a moment, looking around the room. She did that a lot, looked around for a thought like it was a physical thing, "I mean, no I guess. I don't _need _to, you didn't see him again until you were twenty eight, and you turned out fine. Just, I'm not twenty eight."

Spencer rubbed his forehead; he could feel a headache beginning, one that probably wouldn't go away until this issue went away at least. "You want to see him?"

"I don't not want to see him, that's a start I suppose."

"Any particular reason you want to see him?" Spencer asked, trying to assess this situation analytically.

Sara sat back down in her chair and picked up a pen, she wasn't looking at him anymore, "I don't know Spence. It's Christmas, and you still have both of your parents if and when you want to see them. I don't," She said quietly, glancing up to see her brother's expression. Spencer's face fell, and she picked up on the change immediately. "Spence, it's not that you aren't enough. Please don't get all weird, you're the best parent I could ask for, I just want to know Dad, even a little, that's all."

Parent. She'd called him a parent. "Ok, two days only."

Sara POV

And so, after mailing a large stack of Christmas cards, a very surprised phone call to our father, and a reservation with the airline, Spencer and I were packing for two days in Las Vegas. The team, as well as John, were reluctant to see us go since we'd all had pre-Christmas plans made, but those were just pushed back to the two days before Christmas.

"Bored?" Spencer asked me, leaning past my shoulder to look out the plane window. We'd booked seats right next to the wing, which was infuriating. I had to press my face against the seat ahead of me to try to see the ground.

"Mildly, I prefer the jet," I smirked, nodding to the row of seats across from us where a young couple was desperately trying to hush their toddler.

"Me too," Spencer smiled, leaning back in his seat again.

"Spence?"

"Hmm?" Spencer responded, shutting his eyes.

"You don't mind, do you? Going out to Vegas?" I asked, drumming my fingers on the arm rest.

"Of course not," Spencer answered too quickly, like he always does when he's lying.

"Well, I'm glad," I smiled, letting the fib go.

The flight attendant passed our row and picked up the intercom hand-piece, "Good afternoon passengers, flight 2107 is beginning its descent into the Las Vegas International Airport. Please return to your seats, fasten your seatbelts and turn off all electronic devices. Thank you for flying with us and happy holidays."

I took a nervous breath and tightened my seatbelt as the landing strip came into view while the plane slowly lowered out of the sky. I could just see the airport in the distance, and I knew Dad was waiting there. And it was about then that it occurred to me that this might not have been the best idea after all.

"I don't see him," Spencer said irritably, looking over the heads of the other people by baggage claim.

"He'll be here Spence, if he's not already," I assured him, trying to see through the crowd of holiday travelers.

Spencer didn't look convinced, he took me by the shoulder and picked up our suitcase and led me through the crowd. "Spencer!" A man called from down the walkway, "Spencer Reid!" He called again. Dad was jogging towards us, a nervous grin on his face. "Sorry I'm late, it turns out I was waiting at the wrong terminal," He apologized, coming to a stop in front of us. He was how I remembered him from a year ago; he was even still wearing a suit.

"That's… alright," Spencer nodded, setting down the suitcase, but not loosening his grip on my shoulder. Dad smiled again and held out his hand to Spencer, who shook it and then picked up his bag again.

"Sara, you've gotten taller," Dad pointed out, looking back and forth from Spencer to me, "Can I take your bag?" He asked, gesturing to my backpack that was dangling off my free shoulder.

"Sure I guess," I said, handing it over to him.

Dad nodded again, "I set up the guest bedroom for Sara, Spencer, you can take my room if you'd like, I can take the couch. We can go get settled in, or get a bite to eat first if you're hungry," He offered, leading us to the airport doors.

"Um, we're fine, Garcia loaded us up with snacks for the plane," I answered. Truthfully, she had given us enough snacks to last us the full two days we'd be spending in Vegas.

"Garcia… she's one of the agents you work with?" Dad asked, looking at Spencer.

"She's the tech analyst, yes. Sara stays with her some of the time." Dad nodded again and led us out to the parking lot. His car was a gray Honda Accord, it wasn't new and it wasn't old, and it matched his suit almost exactly. Spencer took the passenger seat and I sat in the back, the two men chatted in the front. There was no real topic of conversation, and the exchange was very slow, so I didn't pay much attention.

Dad's house was a one story ranch with pale tan siding. There wasn't much of a front yard, mostly driveway. There was barely any snow on the ground, just a few spaces covered with powder. "Well, this is it," Dad said, holding the car door open for me to get out.

"Thanks," I said, picking up my backpack and stepping onto the lawn, the dead grass crunching beneath my Converse. Spencer was at my arm in a minute and we followed Dad to the front door. He fumbled with his keys for a moment and stepped in before us, kicking off his shoes on the mat. Spencer and I did the same and stepped into the living room.

"Make yourselves at home," Dad said, walking towards the kitchen.

I held onto my backpack uncomfortably, and Spencer didn't set down the suitcase- making ourselves at home wasn't our strong suit. The house was gray. The carpet, the furniture, the drapes were gray. The walls were flat white and the only real colors in the room were my red converse and a green blanket tossed over the back of the couch. There were two wooden bookcases in the corner and a small TV, and the house didn't give the impression of 'lived in.' The place didn't look like it had been updated since the early nineties, and there wasn't much stuff in it, no Christmas decorations either.

Our Dad returned a moment later, looking a little put off by the fact that we hadn't moved at all. A brown and white cat slipped past his legs and walked over to Spencer and me, rubbing against my pant leg and purring loudly. "That's Bear," He said, pointing to the cat. "You can pet him, he's friendly," He assured me. Taking that as a hint, I knelt down and started petting the cat, a few pieces of its hair rubbing off on my sweater.

"How long have you had him?" I asked, remembering the 'very sick cat' Garcia had told us about last year.

"A few months," Dad answered, standing uncomfortably in the doorway. "I could show you two your rooms if you want," He suggested. Spencer nodded and picked up my bag, following Dad down a hallway to the left. Bear followed me, seemingly plastered to my leg. The hall was wood-paneled and dark, it felt cramped.

"Sara, you can take this room," He said, opening a door on the left side of the hall before continuing down the hall and going into the room on the opposite side. I stepped into 'my room' and looked around. Most of the room was occupied with a twin bed and a nightstand. This room was white and gray like the rest of the house. The bed was made up with green blankets, and there was one window that looked out on the street. Bear hopped up on to the bed and sat watching me with disinterest. I could hear Dad and Spence talking down the hall and poked my head back out into the hall. Seeing no one, I dropped my backpack on the bed beside the cat and returned to the living room.

Arthur C. Clarke, Frank Miller, Isaac Asimov, Lewis Carroll, Roy Colson, I stopped there. Checking over my shoulder I turned back to the book-case and picked up 'Night of The Reaper,' flipping open the front cover. A piece of paper fluttered to the floor and landed beside my foot. Glancing over my shoulder again, I picked it up and looked it over. It was a printed copy of my interview with Roy Colson. "Find anything you like?" I jumped and slipped the paper back into the book.

"Um, kind of, sorry," I said, my face flushing. Dad stepped over to the bookshelf and glanced over the titles.

"Is your room ok?" He asked, glancing down at the book in my hand.

"Uh, yeah it's fine, thanks," I nodded, replacing the book on the shelf.

"Good, good," Dad nodded as Spencer returned to the room.

"I just got off the phone with Bennington; they're expecting me so I'm going to head over. Ready to go Sara?" Spencer asked pointedly, shoving his cell phone into his pocket.

I looked up at Dad questioningly and turned back to Spencer, "Yeah I guess."

"Already? Do you want a ride?" Dad asked, pointing out the window to his car.

"No, thanks. I've got a cab, it will be here soon," Spencer shook his head. "Sara, go get ready."

I returned to my room, not sure what I was supposed to be doing to get ready. I wondered what would happen if Diana wasn't having a 'good day,' I knew Spencer didn't like being around his mother during an episode. I also knew that if things continued the way they were going, I wasn't going to be talking to Dad much. We'd been at Dad's house a grand total of 48 minutes, and we were already going somewhere without him. Maybe sticking to Christmas cards would have been a better idea.


	101. Chapter 101

_Author's note: 100 chapters (this one being 101) 300 reviews- charisma26 was #300, 100 favorites, today became 101! Thank you so much everyone who has read and reviewed and followed, I hope you're all still enjoying reading as much as I am writing!_

"Spence."

Spencer didn't answer.

"Spence," I repeated. We hadn't spoken since we'd left Dad's house. The cab had just pulled away from Bennington Sanitarium, leaving my brother and me near the front entrance.

"Why did we have to come here?" Spencer asked, kicking some of the dirt from the facility garden with his foot.

"What do you mean?" I asked.

Spencer pushed his hair back from his face and looked down at me, "Look, we both know that Dad left both of us, it wasn't fair. He ended up seeing us, seeing you, again when he shouldn't have. I was wrong, for most of my life, about why he left me and my Mom. But you, you were his second chance to be a good father, and he messed it up. What if you're wrong about him now?"

"W-Wrong about him now? Spencer what are you talking about?" I demanded, taking a step back from my brother.

"What if he's still just a selfish coward who couldn't have stayed with either of his kids if he tried?" Spencer said, looking at the ground angrily.

"I thought we were passed this!" I exclaimed, my chest tightening.

"No, I understand why he left me; I don't understand why he left you!"

"He thought Mom and I could do better, he thought he wasn't a good father-"

"Well, he didn't really stick around long enough to try, did he?" Spencer asked, raising his eye brows like he was clever.

"Don't you dare talk about it like you know, Spencer Reid, you've got no idea what you're talking about!" I yelled, losing my struggle to keep my voice in check. Spencer looked very taken aback and immediately apologetic. I didn't give him the chance, and took off across the facility grounds towards the back of the building.

-Spencer POV-

'I just screwed up a lot,' Dr. Reid thought as he watched his sister hurry away from him. He pressed the clump of dirt he'd been kicking at back into the garden and looked up at the direction where Sara had gone. He didn't see her anymore and she hadn't turned back. 'I'm just trying to protect her, she can't get her hopes up,' he thought, glaring at the toes of his shoes. 'I shouldn't have agreed to come here.'

Shaking his head, Spencer looked up and began jogging in the general direction where Sara had disappeared, it didn't take him long to find her. There was no one else in the side yard of Bennington Sanitarium but Sara, she had her knees curled up to her chin and was perched on one of the wooden benches overlooking the currently flowerless gardens. The gardens were one of the reasons Spencer had picked this place for his mother over a decade prior.

Sara's back was to him, and gathering his courage he approached the bench, sitting down at her feet. As soon as she saw her brother approaching she put her forehead down on her knees so the profiler couldn't see her face, but based on the shuddery sounds of her breathing, she'd been crying a moment earlier. The doctor looked down at his hands, examining a few of the long healed scars on the back of his hand. "You can be a real jerk sometimes, you know," Came the muffled greeting.

"I know," He nodded, though Sara couldn't see him.

"If you didn't want to come you should have said so instead of playing along until we got here," She said angrily, tightening the grip she had on her knees.

"Sorry."

"And stop acting so nice now, it makes me feel guilty that I'm justifiably mad at you," She chastised him, finally raising her head enough that he could see her eyes, which were damp and reddened. "I don't care anymore about him leaving, hard as it is for you to believe. I forgave him, Spencer. Dad might be selfish and a coward for leaving his family, but all I wanted was the chance to know for myself. I mean, I don't know what my Mom was like before I was born, I don't know what nationality I am or what I was like as a baby. He does."

Spencer sighed, "We didn't have to come all the way to Vegas for you to find that stuff out," He pointed out, sensing there was something more to her motives.

Sara lifted her head so that he could see her entire face, resting her chin back on her knees, "I was also thinking that if it were me, and I messed up with my family, I would be pretty lonely. I would at least want a second chance to make it up to them. Even if I ruined my family, I'd want a second chance. How's he supposed to make what he did right if I don't give him a chance?"

"I don't think he can make what he did right," Spencer admitted, looking thoughtfully at the teenager.

"All I want is to try and get to know him a little. I don't know why I want to give him the chance to be in my life, and I still don't want to be around him all the time. But I'm a big supporter of taking chances either way," Sara said quietly, opening the palm of her hand to show Spencer the slowly fading scar. "Just give me the opportunity to talk to him, that's all I want."

-Sara POV-

The visit with Diana didn't last very long; it was one of her better days, but not a good day either. She knew Spencer and I, but wasn't too keen on talking. When we arrived back at the house the front door was unlocked for us and the smell of food was wafting out from the kitchen. The TV was on with the volume low, a commercial was playing at the moment. "We're back," Spencer called as we took off our shoes.

"How was Diana?" Dad asked, appearing in the kitchen doorway.

"She was alright," Spencer answered, which was what he always said.

"Good, good," Dad said absent mindedly. "I ordered a pizza, I wasn't sure when you'd be back, it's on the counter if you'd like some," He said, pointing to the left.

"I'm not feeling too well, I have a headache; can you make sure Sara eats? She hasn't had any real food all day," Spencer asked, and then yawning very obviously. My eyes widened nervously, when I said I wanted to talk to Dad, I didn't mean by myself. Surely my overly protective profiler brother hadn't misinterpreted that!

"Of course, you like pepperoni, right Sara?" Dad asked as Spencer headed for the hall way. I glared after Spencer but nodded. I stepped apprehensively through the kitchen doorway and looked around; there was an open laptop of the kitchen table which was wedged into the back corner of the room. The window above it looked out into a miniscule backyard; Dad evidently was not a fan of lawn care. "We can eat on the couch if you'd like," Dad suggested, handing me a large slice of pizza on a plastic plate.

"Yeah, ok," I said, following him back into the primarily gray room. I glanced down the hall hopefully as we passed, but Spencer was nowhere to be seen and his door was shut. "The Andy Griffith Show," I commented, looking at the TV screen.

"Do you remember? We used to watch the reruns of this all the time when you were little, you couldn't stand the shows for kids your age, neither could Spencer," Dad said quickly, settling himself on the couch. I sat at the opposite end, balancing my plate with one hand to adjust the couch cushion.

"I think so," I nodded, but only faintly remembered. Dad smiled and turned back to the program, taking a large bite from his pizza. We sat watching the black and white TV show for a solid fifteen minutes without speaking again.

"So how's work?" I asked eventually, deciding to make an effort.

"It's been fine, the usual," He answered.

I finished the last of my pizza before trying again, "So, I was wondering earlier, what are we? Like German or French or Swedish or something?" I asked, debating whether or not to set the plate on the table beside the couch.

"Oh, um, alright. I'm Scottish and Welsh I believe."

"What about Mom? … Or don't you know?"

"I think she was mostly Irish, yes that's right, she was Irish."

Ok, this was a start. "Ok, where'd you grow up?"

"In Spring Valley with my parents and brother, Daniel." His answers were becoming more prompt.

"Alright… so what do you do for fun I guess?"

That one threw him a little, "For fun… um, I read, and I play with the cat and watch television."

"That's it?" I asked, a little underwhelmed.

"I guess?" Dad answered uncomfortably.

"Oh, no, that's cool," I nodded, hoping not to end the conversation prematurely by offending him.

"Cool… isn't that something teenagers say when something isn't cool?" He asked, narrowing his eyes at me. I smiled back guiltily and shrugged.

"So… Why Virginia?" I asked.

"Why did I move there?"

"Yeah, I mean, it's not exactly close by," I nodded, inspecting my fingernails closely.

"My parents used to take their vacations there, it's where my mother grew up," Dad said as Spencer appeared at the end of the hall.

"And… are they still alive?" I asked, I had always wondered about grandparents.

"No, they died when I was little," Spencer answered, he apparently didn't want to leave me with Dad for too long. Dad seemed startled by the sudden appearance and sat up a little straighter on the couch. I took a moment to glance at my father's feet, the socks matched. That was a little disappointing. "Sara, you have to call Prentiss and Garcia to let them know we got in alright, you promised to call them, remember?"

Yes, I did remember, but doing the math in my head, it was only 8:43 in Quantico, and Garcia and Emily were both night owls anyway. Of course, I didn't want to get into an argument about it with Spencer, the one we'd had earlier had given him that headache, whether it was a real one real or not. "Yeah ok, excuse me," I said, only somewhat reluctantly leaving my place on the couch. Dad nodded and turned back to the TV while Spencer followed me down the hall and returned to his room. I wondered why he didn't stay to chat with Dad; evidently he'd given up on conversation after the car ride here.

I shut the guest bedroom door and picked up my cell phone. I fell back onto the bed, and Bear darted out from underneath, deciding that the best place to hide was the bathroom. Holding the phone above my face, I waited while my text message inbox loaded. Two texts from John, one from Garcia. They both were checking to see how the flight had been. I decided to call Garcia's apartment first, since Emily had planned to hang out there for the evening, so they'd both be around. I dialed Garcia's number, deciding to call John after I hung up. I listened intently to the dial tone as I wondered how much longer this visit would last, and whether or not I was actually enjoying myself yet.


	102. Chapter 102

_Author's note: I think I've answered most questions about why Sara agreed to see her Dad in this chapter or the previous one, but if you have any others after this chapter I can private message you if you'd like. Actual Christmas chapter after this one!_

William Reid stretched and wondered why he was so uncomfortable, keeping his eyes shut. Right, he was on the couch he remembered, now stopping to ponder what had woken him so early. He felt something land on his stomach and reached over his blanket, his hand reaching the cat, which had appeared for the first time since the night before. Bear had probably been stuck in the guest bedroom all night, which reminded the lawyer of something else- his kids were here.

William blinked a few times and looked around, the sun was up, and he could see some dust floating through the air in front of the living room window. The TV was on, but muted, and he heard some determinedly quiet footsteps in the hall. Since Bear had escaped the room, he guessed that Sara was awake. He hadn't seen her again since dinner the evening before, but had heard her on the phone long into the night. She had been calling some of the agents Spencer worked with, he recalled.

He shut his eyes again as he heard the footsteps enter the room and stop at the end of the couch where his feet where. Keeping his eyes shut, he waited until the quiet footsteps retreated into the kitchen, and he heard the refrigerator door open. He opened his eyes again and continued to listen as several cabinet doors were open and shut, and then the fridge again. William was wondering if getting up now would startle Sara when he saw her pass through the room again, cup of milk in hand, and return to the hall. That answered that question.

Mr. Reid was just folding up the blanket he had used for the night when he heard someone coming down the hall again. Looking up expectantly, he saw his elder child, Spencer, walking quietly into the room. "Good morning, feeling better?" He asked, startling the young man enough to make him jump.

"Um, hi. Yeah, thanks, I was wondering if you had coffee? Sara was asking…" Spencer said uncomfortably. The doctor was fully dressed, apparently not comfortable enough here to walk around in pajamas.

"Yeah, the coffee maker's under the sink, I'll get it," He offered, since he doubted his son was confident or comfortable enough to go searching through the cabinets by himself, as Sara had done earlier. Of course, she had assumed that no one knew she was awake. "I don't drink coffee very much, so it's somewhat buried," He explained, feeling a little embarrassed as he knelt in front of the cabinet and pulled out several rolls of paper towels and a few pans to find the old coffee maker.

"It's fine," Spencer nodded, standing awkwardly in the kitchen doorway, his arms swinging back and forth stiffly at his sides.

"How many times have I told you not to do that arm flapping thing," Came Sara's voice, soon followed by her appearance at Spencer's side. The latter looked immediately more at ease and replaced the swinging motion with leaning more comfortably against the doorway. The youngest Reid was dressed too, making William feel a little out-of-place in his own home as he returned his clutter to the cupboard. "'Morning," Sara greeted him, now looking down at her father from the kitchen doorway.

"Good morning, how did you sleep?" William asked, careful not to bump his head when he looked up. Her blonde hair was pulled back into a ponytail today, and she was wearing a sweater much too large for her over her jeans. It took a moment to recognize it as the one Spencer had arrived in yesterday.

"Um, fine, thanks. I got to sleep late though, I couldn't get off the phone," She said, rocking back and forth so that she bumped into Spencer's shoulder with each sway.

"With Agent Prentiss?" William asked as he began to set up the coffee maker. It hadn't taken him long after the chat they'd had last night to realize where Sara had taken her alias from. She'd used the name Emily Prentiss a year ago when they'd met again, and at least once when she'd called his office. Sara was obviously close to her.

"Yeah, and with John too."

"Uh, John?" William asked, searching his memory for any agents named John, but he could only recall their last names.

"Oh, he's my-"

"-Her boyfriend," Spencer cut in, obvious distaste lingered on the word 'boyfriend.' William felt a swell of pride rise up in him as he noted the protective look that his son had taken on, Spencer was a better father to Sara than he could have ever been he thought sadly, though he wished that it hadn't had to turn out that way.

"Really?" He asked simply, not wanting to push the subject if it would make Sara or Spencer uncomfortable. No one elaborated, so he added, "The coffee will be done in just a minute," before silence could fall again. "Do either of you want something to eat? Here, sit down," William said encouragingly, hoping that his children would at least make it though the kitchen doorway.

The two of them sat down in the wooden kitchen chairs as the coffee maker let out a small 'ding.' They were talking quietly but he could feel their eyes on him, and William wondered what he was supposed to do with them all day before they left in the afternoon. The three sat in uncomfortable silence, Sara watching him over her coffee mug, and Spencer avoiding eye contact with his father. After several minutes, Sara set down her mug and cleared her throat, "I was wondering if you had any pictures from when I was younger, of me and Mom. I couldn't find many when I moved… after…" She said quietly, undecided whether to look at her father or at the table or Spencer.

"Um…" He hadn't brought much with him from the house in Virginia, but he knew exactly where the small album was. "Yeah, hang on," He nodded, leaving his unfinished coffee on the edge of the table. Neither of his children made an attempt to follow him as he left the kitchen for the hall closet, reaching up to the highest shelf and pulling the little album out from under a box of odds and ends. He looked down at it sadly, not having looked at it in several years. He remembered the months after he'd left, he hadn't been able to go more than a day without looking through it, until he'd finally memorized the pictures exactly, and stopped.

"Here, you can have it if you want," William said, returning to the kitchen where two of the three coffee mugs had found their way into the sink. He handed the album to Sara, who set it on the table and gingerly opened the cover.

"It was a set, I remember," She said thoughtfully, "I didn't know what happened to this one." Spencer scooted his chair closer to hers to look over the pictures. The earliest pictures were from the day after Sara had been born, William remembered leaving the camera at home with the excitement at the birth of his second child. She'd been smaller than average when she was born, but healthy too. He recalled the argument over what to name her, Laura wanted to call her 'Julie,' but he wouldn't have it. He preferred 'S' names anyways.

Spencer snorted in amusement at some of the pictures; Laura had fun shopping for baby clothes and usually picked some of the more outlandish ones. "I remember this, my rocking cow," Sara said happily, the two seemed to have forgotten that their father, who had taken most of the pictures, was even in the room.

"Rocking cow?" Spencer asked.

"Yeah, like a rocking horse, but better," She nodded, pointing to one of the pictures of her as a toddler, her mother supporting her on the large plastic cow that had occupied most of the living room at one time.

William couldn't help but notice as the pictures progressed that Laura's appearance was deteriorating. He, of course, hadn't noticed it all those years ago, but in photos it was blatant. Laura had thoroughly enjoyed motherhood, often insisting that she was the better parent, which had always rubbed him the wrong way. Sara reached the last few pages of the album and was closely examining a group photo taken in the late summer months just after Sara turned six. William averted his eyes from those pages, trying to ignore the memories it brought back, lest he say something out loud.

Suddenly, Sara stood up, her chair tipping backwards and crashing to the ground. "That's… no…" She mumbled, taking a step back from the album.

Spencer, now on his feet, took her by the arm, "What is it?" He asked worriedly.

"Him… Jay… or George. George…" She was saying frantically, pointing to the photo. William swallowed nervously, looking down at the photo again. He was folding Sara amongst a group of neighbors, and Laura was further down in the picture beside another man and his wife. George Watkins, he recalled, as did Sara, had been one of their close friends for the two years before William had left. "Oh my… that's not possible because…" Tears had started streaming down Sara's face and she looked up at her father frantically.

"I thought… I wasn't sure though because Mom said… she always said… But she lied…" She was rambling incoherently; Spencer was trying to make sense of what William already understood. Sara remembered. "She said that you were the one… but it was her fault! It was her and George! And she told me not to tell!" She was getting louder as more memories were coming back.

Spencer was looking at William angrily, trying to figure out what had come over his sister. "She… she was cheating on you… and told me not to tell. She lied for all those years about it too and I forgot. I forgot what happened… I was never sure… I thought it didn't really happen."

So she knew, he'd thought she had forgotten completely, she was barely six at the time, but she remembered. "I need to go lie down," Sara was saying, and Spencer tried to lead her out of the kitchen. "Wait," She said, jerking free from his hold. "Dad, you knew and that's why you left. Why didn't you tell me?" She demanded angrily, tears streaking down her face and onto the oversized sweater.

"I didn't want to ruin your memory of Laura," He said quietly.

"You left me with her. She thought you'd come back and forgive her."

"I already doubted myself as a father at that point, the fact that she was… having an affair… only made me realize more that I wasn't wanted there."

"So she drove you away," Sara concluded, wiping at her face with her sweater sleeve, Spencer was hovering by her elbow as if she was going to faint. "She told me for years that you just left us."

"I didn't just leave," He nodded, scratching the back of his neck anxiously, because he knew what was coming next.

"But… you didn't take me with you. You still left me… I didn't do anything wrong," Her confusion was quickly turning to anger, and this is why he hadn't wanted Sara to know. "She lied _and_ you left."

Spencer had clearly had enough of the emotional stress Sara was undergoing, "Sara, you're overwhelmed and need to process this. Go back to bed," He urged, taking her by the shoulder and effectively removing her from the kitchen.

Mr. Reid didn't see the two for several hours, but more than a few times he heard some yelling coming from the room, Sara was obviously still frustrated. He couldn't blame her of course; the realization that your mother had lied for years about why your father left must be difficult. And that realization also seemed to have opened up some old wounds for her.

"Dad," William looked up quickly from his hunched position on the couch.

"Yeah?" He asked tiredly, bracing himself for some kind of verbal assault. Behind her stood Spencer, he was carrying the suitcase and Sara's backpack.

"We have to leave for the airport, Spencer called a cab." William felt another wave of sadness wash over him, he would probably never see them again. Sara took a breath and blinked her eyes rapidly, she was still upset, "Um, I came here because I've been trying to forgive you for leaving, and I said that I had forgiven you last year, but that wasn't true. I'd been ignoring how much it hurt when you left for a long time, and I thought that it was the same as forgiveness, but it's not."

William nodded, keeping his appearance composed, "And you seem nice and everything, and I was really trying to just make myself forgive you, and I thought that coming here would sort of force myself to do that, but I should have known that wouldn't work. I'm sorry it didn't, but oh well."

"I'm sorry too," He said, watching his children closely, trying to memorize everything about them as fast as he could.

"It must really suck to have all this stuff happen to you, and I get that, and you can't change what happened, but I'm sick of these lies and people not just telling me things, and I don't want to bother you with this stuff anymore," Sara said, she didn't sound as angry as she had earlier. "I don't hate you, I never did. I thought I did, but I didn't. I still want to know you, but…"

But not right now. William nodded understandingly; he knew that he'd lost her a long time ago. He'd lost both of them a long time ago. And he understood perfectly why Spencer had been doing his best to keep them separated, it hadn't been fair to get her hopes up, it wasn't fair to anyone. "I'm sorry," He said again.

A car beeped outside, and a quick glance told him that it was the cab. Spencer patted Sara on the shoulder and picked up the bags, stepping out of the house without a word. "I'm sorry Dad, I'm really sorry," Sara said, tears returning to her eyes.

Hesitantly, William stepped over to her and placed a hand on her arm, "I am so sorry that I hurt you. But you have Spencer now, you don't need me. Don't worry about it, ok?" He offered her a small smile.

"Ok," She nodded, attempting to smile back. The cab beeped again and Sara looked nervously at the door. "Bye Dad. I didn't get to say it last time. Goodbye," She said again, saying each word like she'd never say them again, maybe she never would.

"Goodbye Sara." The girl nodded, and walked outside into the cool winter air, sealing the door behind her, and sealing her father inside. He did not hug her goodbye, he did not say 'I love you,' it wouldn't have been fair. She was leaving him now, instead of him leaving her. William felt tears swell in his eyes and quickly dashed them away, remembering that day nine years ago. He hadn't said goodbye that day, but he had cried, and he didn't want that again. But he'd said goodbye this time, and that was enough for now.

"I never say goodbye, because saying goodbye means going away, and going away means forgetting," Mr. Reid recalled the quote. Maybe forgetting was what they both needed.


	103. Chapter 103

I spent almost the entire flight home with my face buried against Spencer's shoulder so the flight attendant wouldn't see me cry, and so I wouldn't have to look at my brother. The pitying, puppy-dog look he'd been giving me only made me want to cry more. Spencer had been reciting a familiar story, I wasn't paying very close attention, but the reassuring and steady voice was comforting all the same.

"Hey, you ok?" Spencer whispered, shaking me gently by the shoulder. I blinked tiredly and realized I had dozed off on Spencer's shoulder. The plane was darkened and I realized it was nighttime, so we would be landing soon.

"Yeah, I'm fine Spence," I murmured, listening to the people in the seats ahead of us snoring.

"Good. Rossi's meeting us at the airport," Spencer informed me, glancing past my shoulder and out the window. We'd gotten good seats for the return flight, not right next to the wing this time, but since the flight was partly at night, it was hard to see anything outside anyways. Typical Spencer logic.

"Alright," I nodded; relieved that Dave would be the first person I'd see. Considering that all the people I'd be seeing in the immediate future were profilers, I liked my chances of making it back to the apartment without crying with Rossi around, rather than one of the other team members.

"You want to talk about it?" Spencer asked, tucking a piece of hair behind my ear that had fallen out of my ponytail while I was asleep.

I thought about it for a moment, "Not now," I answered, feeling the sting return to my eyes.

"Ok, just, I want to ask one thing."

"Fire away," I smiled a little, squinting out the window as some lights of the city started to come into view.

"At Bennington, when we were fighting, when you said I didn't know what I was talking about, was that what you meant?" Spencer asked, watching me intently.

"No, not really. I didn't even remember that I remembered until I saw the picture. What I had meant was that my Mom moved on pretty quickly, which wasn't very nice of her either. I guess I know why she did that now," I said, grumbling through the last statement.

Spencer nodded thoughtfully, "Alright. Sorry about that argument by the way," He said, the corner of his mouth tipping up a little.

I rolled my eyes and smiled, genuinely this time, "It's fine Spence, you know I still love you."

We sat in silence for several minutes, not the uncomfortable, awkward silence at Dad's house, just silence. Our silence, the Reid's silence, comfortable silence. "May love and laughter light your days, and warm your heart and home. May good and faithful friends be yours wherever you may roam," Spencer said, mostly to himself.

"What's that?" I asked, bumping my backpack lightly with the toes of my sneakers.

"An Irish blessing, I heard Dad say your Mom was Irish."

"Oh, ok," I nodded, stowing away the quote in my memory. "Are we going to resume our apartment search anytime soon? There was that one near the park that we like online," I reminded him, moving had fallen by the wayside between cases and school and, well, this trip.

"Sure, after the holidays," Spencer agreed. In the eighteen months that I'd been living in Quantico, Spencer's room for book storage had greatly diminished, that was mostly my fault.

"Hey, Princess!" Rossi greeted me, wrapping me up in his customary bear-hug.

"Hey Rossi, how have things been holding up while I was gone?" I asked, smiling up at him and readjusting my glasses.

"Things are in shambles, barely holding together, but we managed," He laughed, giving me a wink.

"Thanks for the lift Rossi," Spencer said, reaching out to shake Dave's hand.

"No problem, Reid," Dave smiled, "Lead the way Sara," He instructed, motioning to the airport doors. I started walking, ready to be home since I didn't think the happy face I'd put on for Rossi was going to hold up much longer.

"How bad was it?" Rossi muttered to his younger colleague as soon as the youngest of the trio was out of ear shot.

"Very," Reid informed him, falling in step with Rossi. "Apparently, Laura Ryan was having an affair at the time Dad left them, but Sara'd been told otherwise for almost her entire life. She didn't take it well."

"Poor kid," Rossi said sadly, shaking his head. "She'll be alright though."

"That's what I'm hoping, for her sake. Don't mention it to anyone else by the way, I don't know if she wants the team to know," Spencer added hurriedly as his sister slowed down when they reached the airport exit.

"Not a word," Rossi replied. "Alright, let's get you kids home," He smiled kindly, his voice returning to its normal volume.

"Good, I'm ready to go to sleep," Said Sara, slinging her backpack up over her shoulder as they exited the building and made their way into the cold parking lot.

You know when you go to a new place and you notice the smell as soon as you walk in the house. Not a bad smell, but the house scent. And you never notice it after you get used to a place, until you've been away from it for awhile. That's one of those things that I live for, and that's what I thought of when I got home. The next thing I thought of was my overwhelming desire to crawl into bed and never come out, ever again.

I said goodnight to Spencer, just the one word, and took the short walk to my room, too drained to change into pajamas. I just crawled under the comforter and slept for a solid hour and eighteen minutes. And, upon awakening, the urge to cry was right where I'd left it. I pulled the top quilt off the bed, disregarding the clothes and books that fell haphazardly to the floor with the action, and dragged it out into the hall. I stopped a moment later in front of Spencer's door, which had been left open, and listened. Despite the fact that the lights were out, I could tell from his breathing that he was still awake.

"Spence," I said into the dark.

"Come on in," He answered, seeming unsurprised by my appearance. "How do you feel?"

"Mildly heartbroken," I said, entering the room and draping the blanket over my shoulders. I could see Spencer nod in the dark, and I sat down on the bed beside him, "Can I sleep in here tonight?" I asked, rubbing my eyes and realizing that I'd left my glasses in my room.

"Sure," Spencer said, scooting over to the very edge of the bed at the same time. I smirked, adjusted my blanket, and promptly fell asleep.

The next morning Spencer was already up and I could smell coffee coming from the kitchen. I returned to my room, changed my clothes, and put the blanket back on my bed before going into the kitchen. "Morning," Spencer greeted me, more cheerful than I'd seen him in the past three days, evidently pleased to be home. "Sleep well?" He asked.

"Yeah," I answered, accepting a cup of coffee from him and taking a sip.

"I should hope so, since you kicked me four times last night," He said, leaning back against the kitchen counter.

"Sorry," I said into my coffee cup, a little embarrassed that I hadn't stayed in my room or slept on the couch instead.

"You should, I got enough of that stuff in highschool," He said, only half joking. Spencer finished his mug and set it in the sink, "So, decorating?" He asked excitedly, raising his eyebrows.

I laughed a little and nodded, "Alright, but you have to come to the basement with me this year, I hate going down there."

"So, I was thinking the other day-"

"What?" Spencer asked, popping his head out from behind the Christmas tree. We'd left the lights on it the year before, thinking that it's be easier next time we decorated, but sometime between New Year and now, they'd gotten incredibly tangled, and I'd left Spencer to handle it.

"I was thinking about the first few months I was here," I said again.

"What about them?" Spencer asked, now lying down under the tree to attempt to remove the lights from the artificial branches.

"Just thinking that for about three months you called me your half-sister, and then you just called me your sister instead."

"Ok," He said, glaring at the tree.

"Just saying," I shrugged, picking up a box of ornaments. "How's it going down there Doctor?" I asked, trying not to laugh.

"I don't understand! We packed it perfectly last year and now it's a mess!" Spencer exclaimed, getting up from the floor to sit down heavily in his arm chair.

"Christmas lights Spencer, they're an enigma," I said, looking around at the messy living room. "I remember this one time, Mom and I…" I stopped there, remembering that I was supposed to be angry with her.

"What?" Spencer asked.

I felt the heat behind my eyes, warning me that I might cry if I continued. "Nothing," I said, smiling so he'd think things were normal again.

"Just tell me," He said gently, "You might feel better if you do."

"No, I won't," I snapped. I shut my eyes and took a breath, I wasn't angry at Spencer, "I mean, can't I just not remember something for once?" I said, quietly this time. "I- I don't want to remember her and him and what they did and how she lied and messed up. I don't want to remember any of it, even the good times anymore. I just want to be in the here and now, with the team and you and your mismatched Christmas socks, ok?"

Spencer nodded and glanced down at his socks, "I think we're victims of our own minds, you and me. We don't forget things like everyone else, I can remember everything, and you can't forget very easily. It's not always bad though, right?"

"It's the curse of the Timelords," I said, ready to be done self-pitying for one day.

Spencer and I exchanged a knowing glance, "Christmas lights again?"

"Christmas lights, again," I agreed, turning my attention back to the little tree in the corner.


	104. Chapter 104

I sat down and the white, powdery snow immediately started melting on my jeans. I pulled my scarf up so it better covered my neck and looked at the little headstone. I sniffed from the cold and blinked hard.

_Laura J Ryan_

_1971-2010_

I pulled my glove off and stuffed it into my pocket before reaching down to trace the letters with my finger. "Hi, Mom," I said quietly, feeling a little foolish for talking out loud to a grave marker. "I know you're not really in there, but I guess you can hear me, wherever you are," I said, sighing out loud and watching the little cloud of steam from my breath dissipate in the air.

I glanced over my shoulder at one of the driveways nearby. I'd asked Spencer to stay in the car, for now at least. I'd wanted to have a serious chat with my Mom. "Spence is still here, don't worry. He sends his regards," I said, now tracing the flower design at the top of the marker. "Merry Christmas, by the way. Sorry I didn't bring any flowers, it's too cold for them and I hate the plastic ones, I think you did too."

Clearing my throat, I pulled my glove back on and stuffed my hands back into my pockets, trying to ignore the cold sensation in my knees. "I saw Dad a few days ago; I guess you know that though. I don't really know how that stuff works where you are. So, um, about George- George Watkins. I don't think too highly of him anymore, never did though. Never thought much of any of those guys to be honest, not that I ever said anything. Sorry."

I glanced over my shoulder at the car again and then turned back to the grave, trying to picture my mother. "Why'd you have to do it Mom? Cheat on Dad I mean. He was nice, wasn't he? I remembered him being nice. I suppose that was your choice though. I uh, I'm more upset that you had to lie about it, Mom. It was kind of a jerky thing to do, to be honest. I wish you would have just told me, you know, so I didn't have to be as mad with Dad for all those years."

"I guess I wish there were a lot of things you hadn't done, especially the last thing," I said, blinking hard, "But I guess that's my fault too. I didn't think you'd really do it, Mom. It was a stupid thing to do… But it's ok… It's not ok, but I can't change it. Rambling, sorry, that always used to bug you." I heard a car door shut behind me, "I think that's Spence coming, so one more thing. I've got this boyfriend, John LaMontagne, I know don't freak out on me. He's really nice, and Spencer's going to be meeting him later, so wish me luck."

"Hey," Spencer said, crouching down beside me. "You're going to be frozen solid if you stay too much longer," He said, looking down at the headstone.

"I'm ok," I insisted, when it reality it felt like my jeans were now frozen to the ground.

"Not really frozen solid of course, but I don't want you to get frostbite either," Spencer said. "We have to start heading back home anyways."

I gave the headstone one last look-over. "Yeah, you're right. Ok, um, bye Mom," I said quietly, now even more embarrassed since Spencer was listening. He helped me up from the ground and I felt light headed as the blood in my legs started moving again. Once inside the warm car I pulled my gloves off and held my hands up to the air vent, "I didn't realize how cold it was outside," I muttered.

"Well, lucky for you it's warm at home, and we have last minute cleaning to do."

"Spence, where's your sweater?" I asked, setting a plate of cutouts on the coffee table. Spencer had finally appeared from his room wearing a dark button down, rather than the not-completely-horrible Christmas sweater that Garcia and I had found.

"The Boy is coming, I'm not going to look intimidating in that thing," Spencer argued, plopping down into his chair and reaching for a cookie.

I slapped his hand away and frowned, "No cookies unless you wear the sweater, and it's not possible for you to look intimidating Spence, you're like a puppy… With a really good attention span."

Spencer frowned back at me, "I can be intimidating! Besides, I have to play the over protective guardian, and I don't think a reindeer sweater fits into the costume wardrobe."

I sighed, "Would you prefer the antlers from last year?"

"No thank you, little girl, but you're welcome to them if you want."

I giggled a little at that, "I'm happy with my Santa hat, thanks though Mr. Mom."

Spencer rolled his eyes, "Mr. Mom doesn't apply here, I'm not an unemployed father, I'm a single guardian. Different!" He pointed out, poking me in the forehead. "You, Sunshine, are losing your touch."

There was a knock at the front door, "Merry Christmas guys," Emily called through.

I ran over to open it, "You're early."

"Sorry to disappoint you," Emily laughed, "I heard a rumor from JJ that a certain boy was going to be introducing himself to Reid today, I thought I could provide some moral support," She added, lowering her voice so Spencer couldn't hear. "How is he?"

"He seems to think he can pull off being intimidating." Emily snorted and stepped inside, slipping off her coat. She was nicely dressed as always, wearing a black skirt and a red blouse.

"Hey Reid," She called down the hall.

"Emily, hi, Merry Christmas," He answered, snatching his hand back again from the plate of cookies. "What are you doing here?"

"Helping you with the interrogation," She smiled, taking a seat in my recliner. "How long do we have?"

We didn't have long to wait though, about ten minutes later a hesitant knock came at the door. "Be. Nice." I whispered, messing with Spencer's hair at the same time. Emily smothered a laugh and Spencer stood up, squaring his shoulders. He followed me to the door and opened it, blocking most of the doorway.

"Hi John, Merry Christmas," I called from behind Spencer, trying to edge my way into the doorway.

"Merry Christmas Sara, Mr. Reid," He said nervously, running a hand over his hair. It was combed flat today in a way I knew he hated, but his mother insisted looked better than how he usually wore it.

"It's Doctor," Spencer automatically corrected him. I thought he could add something like 'but please, call me Spencer,' but no such luck.

"Sorry sir, may I come in?" John asked, flushing from embarrassment.

"Of course John, how nice to see you again," Emily answered graciously as she appeared at my side. "Don't worry, I've got this," She muttered, nudging me back towards the kitchen.

"Thank you Agent Prentiss," John said, stepping inside and cautiously edging past Spencer into the space between the living room and kitchen where I was. I felt an immediate surge of gratitude towards her as she added, "And call me Emily."

Spencer huffed and followed us to the living room, taking up his seat in the armchair and motioning towards the sofa, "Have a seat," He said to John, trying to keep his tone professional. I cringed internally, not sure whether to follow the two into the room or to find somewhere to hide. "So, tell me about yourself, son," Spencer began.

Emily chuckled and pulled me into the kitchen, "He sounds like Rossi in interrogation," She said, glancing over her shoulder towards the couch.

"He also seems to be using his selective memory loss powers, John's oldest brother is only a few years younger than him, the whole 'son' thing isn't really necessary."

Prentiss shrugged, "He does it 'cause he cares."

"Nah, he just likes to scare people," I said, watching John squirm under the intense look he was getting from my brother.

"Give your brother some credit, I've seen him get pretty angry before. Anyways, I'll see what I can do. Come on," Emily smiled, stepping into the living room and taking a seat in my recliner. "So, John, how have you been enjoying your school break so far?" She began. I smiled to myself and entered the room as well, taking a seat beside the nervous looking LaMontagne.

-Biology is the least of what makes someone a mother


	105. Chapter 105

Doctor Spencer Reid ran a hand over his face and opened his eyes, blinking tiredly. Even without the smell of smoke that lingered in the apartment, he could remember everything that had happened last night from the instant he began to wake up. As for the smoke, someone last night (Morgan) had accidentally (Morgan) knocked over a candle (Morgan) and set a bowl of popcorn on fire. Not that anyone would admit who it was.

Today is Christmas, Spencer recalled, sitting up in bed. He listened for a moment for footsteps in the apartment. He didn't hear any so he stayed where he was, recalling the evening before- John LaMontagne. He scowled and fell back against his pillows, as much as he wanted to dislike the boy, he didn't. Not that he would ever admit it to his sister. Sure, the kid was _sixteen, _somewhat _athletic, _and even a little _popular, _things that he himself had grown to hate during his school days. But this one was at least mildly intelligent, and did care about Sara. Spencer groaned and covered his head with a pillow, 'this isn't happening,' he thought.

"You'll asphyxiate that way," The teasing voice of his sister came from the door. 'Am I losing my hearing?' Spencer wondered as the pillow was lifted from his head and Sara's face appeared in his line of sight. "Merry Christmas," Sara grinned.

"Merry Christmas," The doctor answered tiredly, pulling the younger genius down beside him and wrapping her in one of the extra blankets in the same motion. He threw an arm across the bundle of blankets and teenager and shut his eyes again, "It's too early," He said as explanation.

"Let me up Spence," Sara whined, attempting to free herself from the cocoon of blankets, as well as her brother's arm. "I wanna go open presents, not sleep!" She said, taking on the tone of an impatient eight year old.

"Nope," Spencer replied, tightening the grip he had on his sister.

"Spencer! We are going to open gifts now or I will scream." The doctor was well aware that this was an empty threat, as Sara rarely, if ever, raised her voice to above something barely audible. Still, he conceded and let her up. "Good boy, now get out of bed, I've been up for an hour," She said, tugging on the sleeve of her brother's pajama shirt.

Spencer glanced at the clock on his bedside table and smirked, "It's only eight in the morning, what's wrong with you?"

"Just get up!" She insisted, not deeming the question worthy of an answer.

"Impaciente," He muttered, recalling a time when Elle had completely torn apart his confidence with Spanish.

"Just get up," Sara repeated, stepping out of the doorway and rushing down the hall.

Half an hour later, the two Reids were stretched out in their respective chairs, feet up on the coffee table, and several small piles of gift wrap strewn about the floor because frankly, they were both too lazy to pick it up. The two were both deeply immersed in their new books, Sara was reading 'The Catcher in the Rye,' and Spencer had 'Flatland,' which he had in truth read, but hadn't owned a copy of until now.

"Spence."

"Yeah?"

"I really like the necklace," Sara said, glancing up from her book.

"Good, I'm glad you do," Spencer answered, turning red behind the novel in his hands.

"It's nice," She added, turning the locket over with her fingers. The locket itself was a dark metal oval with a small blue gem in the center, and hung around her neck by a thin silver chain. Spencer glanced over his book at her and saw that she wasn't looking at him or the necklace anymore; instead her gaze lingered on the telephone before returning to the book. She'd done this several times already, actually six times at eight minutes and thirty-second intervals.

"You know you don't owe him anything, especially after what happened," He muttered, keeping his eyes locked on page 54.

"Other than, you know, my life."

"Doesn't mean you have to like him," Spencer pointed out.

"I know that, and I haven't forgiven him either. I just feel bad, thinking of him sitting alone in that little gray house watching The Andy Griffith Show," Sara said, a sniffing sound coming from behind the book cover.

There was silence for several minutes, page 54 became page 78, and Sara glanced at the phone again. Spencer thought about what she had said, about feeling sorry that their was father sitting alone in his gray house, when she had been practically alone for years _because_ William Reid had chosen to leave her behind so he could sit alone in his gray house. "Riley Jenkins," Sara said quietly, setting the book on her legs.

"What about Riley Jenkins?"

"I owe my life to Riley Jenkins, I mean; Dad might not have left… you and Diana if Riley hadn't died. If that hadn't happened, I wouldn't be alive right now. Actually, you might never have joined the FBI if that hadn't happened."

"I joined the FBI because of Gideon," Spencer pointed out, though this was the first time that this thought had crossed his mind too.

"Still, it kind of bothers me that most, if not all of my life right now is directly caused by someone getting killed. Riley, my Mom. It's stupid," Sara continued angrily, turning the locket around between her fingers again.

"Are you ok?" Spencer asked, setting down his book as well.

Sara faked a smile reassuringly, "Just teenage angst from something I remembered. No big deal. So, are we shopping for apartments next week?"

Spencer smiled back, genuinely, "Yep, and you're scheduled to go with Emily to the SPCA on Wednesday."

"Why can't she just call Mick Rawson?" Sara groaned, smacking the book to her forehead and sliding down in the chair, finally returning to her reading.

It was that kind of a crazy afternoon, terrifically cold, and no sun out or anything, and you felt like you were disappearing every time you crossed a road. ~J.D. Salinger


	106. Chapter 106

"Yes, it's a very nice building, there's a park nearby, a library, and the supermarket is only a five minute drive," The real-estate agent said, gesturing to the apartment building. Morgan, having heard that the Reids were finally going to move, had hooked us up with his agency, the same one that had found him two of his four houses. The agent, whose name was Shawna, Spencer and I were stationed on the opposite side of the street from one of the apartment buildings we were looking at to 'get the whole picture.' "We'll be looking at a top floor apartment today, two bedrooms, two baths, hardwood flooring throughout.

"Any elevator?" Spencer asked, squinting at the four-story brownstone building.

"No, it's an older building," Shawna answered, tucking a piece of dyed-red hair behind her ear. Spencer seemed pleased by this news and smirked at me.

"Can we see inside?" I asked, hoping to get out of the cold.

"Of course," Shawna said, gesturing for us to cross the road. She reminded me a little of JJ, but more perky, of course that probably came with the job.

The first floor of the building was just a hallway leading to a wooden staircase. "The owner and his wife live on the first floor," Shawna said, walking to the stairs, her high heels clicking loudly of the light hardwood flooring. The walls were painted a light tan color, and there were a few acrylic paintings of forests or rivers on the walls. This continued for three flights of stairs until we arrived on the fourth floor. There was one window at the end of the hall by the stairs covered with blinds, and there was a potted plant on the table in front of it. For some reason that on its own made me feels more comfortable being there.

"The available unit is second down the hall," Shawna informed us as soon as we got off the last stair. "Number 23," She added, gesturing with the clipboard that had just appeared out of her bag. A key appeared a moment later and she opened the door, holding it open for Spencer and me.

One of the first things I noticed upon entering the apartment was the faint smell of cinnamon. I'd heard that real-estate agents often used aerosols in houses or apartments they were showing to cover up any unpleasant smells, and also to make people like the place more, since scent is one of the most powerful memory links. If the place had smelled like cherry I would have left immediately, since cherry is supposedly what children's medicine tastes like, and I can't stand anything cherry now because of it. But, since it was cinnamon, I decided I liked it.

The second thing I noticed was exceedingly better than the smell, it was bookshelves. Six built-in, six shelf, solid oak bookshelves. And that's what sold me. "Can we have it?" I muttered, elbowing Spencer lightly in the ribs.

Spencer's attention was also fixed on the bookshelves, but answered, "We have to look at the whole thing."

"No, I will live in the corner with my books, the rest is irrelevant," I told him quickly as Shawna began making laps around the apartment and pointing at things.

"Why don't we see the kitchen?" She asked, walking towards the doorway on the right just as I caught sight of a small stained glass window in the room's left corner.

"Oh look, a new fridge for Morgan to raid," I said, looking around the kitchen. The hardwood, which was mostly covered by an area rug in the other room, continued here.

"This is… nice," Spencer offered, since Shawna seemed a little put off by our relative silence.

She smiled wider, and I noticed a spot of lipstick on her teeth, but I didn't say anything. "The last tenant who lived here left an almost new refrigerator and the place comes with a very good stove, stainless steel. There's lots of counter space, lots of space for cooking, I'm sure you'll enjoy that," Shawna sped along, smiling pointedly at me. I nodded back, not sure how to answer. "Shall we see the bedrooms?" She asked, not pausing long enough for us to answer.

"Not to be critical or anything, but aren't you supposed to ask her questions?" I asked, speaking quietly so I wouldn't interrupt whatever Shawna was saying.

"What kind of questions?" Spencer asked, slouching a little and looking closely at the floorboards.

"I don't know, apartment renting questions. Haven't you done this before?"

"No, when I moved here I rented the first apartment I could find near the FBI."

"What about before that?" I asked.

"Dorms since I was twelve," He answered.

"Now, the larger bedroom is right here, and the bath is right next door," Shawna was saying, opening various doors.

"What about the second bathroom?" I asked, this being the second time I'd spoken to the real-estate agent directly.

"It's connected to the second, smaller bedroom."

"In which case, I'll look there, Spencer can look at other stuff," I suggested, speeding to the room at the very end of the hall and walking in without the other two. The hardwood was exposed in this room as well, and the walls were almost the same tan color as the hallway had been. I looked at the closet and discovered that I could fit four people the same size as me inside it, turned the light on and off a few times, and glanced in the bathroom, finding a standing shower, toilet, and sink inside. All in all, I was just happy to get a break from Shawna for a minute, she made me nervous. She had one of those loud, pushy personalities that made me uncomfortable.

"And how do we find this room?" Shawna asked, appearing in the doorway and causing me to jump a little.

"It's…good," I said, glancing around again.

"Good, good!" She exclaimed, clapping her hands together. Spencer appeared by her shoulder a moment later and pulled a face, nodding with his head back towards the living room. "So, you're interested in renting," She said, leading us back down the hall. It wasn't a question.

Spencer and I looked over the bookshelves one more time, "Yes, can I get the paperwork?" Spencer asked, looking at Shawna expectantly. I smiled and looked around, we'd been in the apartment a total of twenty-two minutes, and Spencer was looking for dotted lines to sign. But that's just the type of person he is.

I could recall a day over a year ago when something similar had happened. Spencer had met me for five minutes, and half an hour later was signing paperwork to take me in. Lucky for me he had good references, and that most of what qualifies him as an FBI agent also goes into the background check. Unfortunately, it apparently takes longer for an FBI agent and his sister to move into a new apartment than it takes for an FBI agent to becomes his sister's guardian and move her into his old apartment. So, we'd be staying in the other apartment until sometime in January.


	107. Chapter 107

_Author's Note: Beginning of 5x23, next up is season 6! Sorry for the extended break, I was in a school production and now I'm fighting off a cold._

"Hey, what did Strauss want?" Emily asked, walking into the conference room ahead of Rossi, Derek, Spencer and me. Hotch and JJ were gathered around the monitor, obstructing my view of the images on screen slightly.

"She needs us in Los Angeles," Answered Hotch, turning to sit down at the round table.

"Home invasion-homicide last night," JJ filled us in. "Officers found Gregory Everson, 56, beaten with a GSW to the head. His wife, Colleen, was equally beaten and raped repeatedly."

"Repeatedly?" Emily grimaced, looking up from the case report.

"That's what she reported," JJ confirmed.

"Wait, she survived this?" Emily asked.

Hotch nodded, "He chose to keep her alive."

"An intentional witness," Emily said aloud, sounding both intrigued and disgusted.

"Everything but that points to an organized offender, and an experienced one," Continued Rossi. It was at that point that I realized I was still in the room. I knew Hotch could see that I was there, and one word from him would have me out of there. But I was still in the room.

"Was she able to identify him?" Spencer asked.

"She said he was white with mean eyes and repulsive breath."

"Rotten inside and out," Said Rossi. "Did he rape her in front of the husband?"

"Yeah," JJ said quietly. I swallowed uncomfortably, still weighing whether or not I should leave the room.

Morgan looked up from the file, "One home invasion rarely warrants Strauss personally sending us out."

"No, there's more. Ballistics matched a double homicide in downtown LA, 48 miles away," Answered JJ.

"Where three days ago those two women were raped and killed," Continued Hotch, gesturing to the monitor.

"But last night's was in the suburbs," Said Emily, setting down the file and crossing her arms. I shifted from one foot to the other, only glancing occasionally at the images on-screen.

Morgan stuck his hands into his pockets, "They're afraid of another night stalker."

"Exactly, we're heading out tonight, wheels up in thirty," Said Hotch, and the team immediately exited through the doors to the bullpen. I turned to leave, but I wasn't fast enough. "You stayed," Hotch called after me, stopping me in my tracks.

"Was that wrong?" I asked, turning back towards him slowly.

"No," He said, gathering the other case files. His expression was stern and matched his tone, but he didn't seem displeased with me, so I waited. "You haven't come to see Jack in a long time, he's been asking about you," Hotch said quietly, stacking the manila folders into his briefcase.

I shrugged, "I… yeah," I muttered, no reasonable excuse coming to mind. "I miss him."

"You could visit him, or I could bring him to your apartment if you'd like," Hotch said, glancing up at me for the first time. He didn't say it as a suggestion, he wanted a reaction.

"Um, no that's ok, I don't want to bother you guys," I answered somewhat lamely, rocking back and forth on my heels.

Hotch watched me for a moment before letting the issue go. "Roy Coulson has been calling me again, he's writing another book," He said, sitting back down at the round table and motioning for me to sit as well.

"Why?" I asked, shaking my head.

The Supervisory Special Agent drummed his fingers on the table top, "You've been getting fan mail for the past five months, and Roy wants to get it off his hands. I've been fielding it to P.O. boxes but he's right, we need to do something about it. You've gathered a small following."

My face paled, "Are you serious?" I asked, sitting up straighter in my chair. "I mean, I didn't even do anything! Coulson knew the guy for years! You… killed him, why me?"

Hotch grimaced, and I guessed he had expected this reaction, "You know full well that you did _something. _George Foyet attacked you, and you survived. As much as you dislike it, you are considered to be The Reaper's only surviving victim. If you plan on an FBI career, this is going to follow you," He said seriously, giving me a stern look. I ran a hand through my hair nervously, avoiding eye contact with Hotch. "You need to call him, and soon." I sighed and nodded, standing back up from the chair. Hotch patted my shoulder once as he passed and headed towards his office.

I returned to the bullpen, earning a few curious looks from Spencer and Prentiss. "Hotch tell you about Coulson?" Morgan asked as I passed his desk.

"You know too?" I asked quietly, perching on the edge of the neatly organized desk.

"Only I know. Coulson's been calling me and Hotch," He answered, setting his go-bag on his desk top. I could assume that Rossi was listening, even though he wasn't showing it.

"Because of the bullet?" I asked, already knowing that it was the reason. Morgan, like me, had his own grievance against Foyet. I could easily recall the shadow that had fallen over the profiler after his incident with Foyet, and I was one of the few people who knew that the bullet Foyet had left for him was stashed in the back of his desk drawer.

"Yeah," Morgan nodded, glancing around the bullpen. "Hey, at least you're getting fan mail," He smiled, though the smile didn't reach his eyes. "See you in a few days Little Reid," He said, glancing up at Hotch who had reappeared with his bag.

"Bye, Derek," I said, sitting down in his desk chair as the team headed for the elevators.

…..

"One hundred thirty?" I repeated, putting a hand to my forehead. I was seated on my usual bench in Garcia's lair, facing the door and holding a cell phone to my ear.

"Actually one hundred thirty-two, but yes," Roy corrected me, sounding mildly amused. "I've had them all checked over, nothing suspicious, nothing odd in them. Just a few fan letters, mostly from the Academy or fans of my book."

"One hundred and thirty-two letters is not 'a few,' Roy."

"Well, no, not a few. But over five months, it's not too much damage. The postal service has been barking at me to get rid of them, so do you want them sent down there or not?" He asked.

I sighed audibly and took a glance over my shoulder at Garcia. "Did you read any of it?"

"Only the ones with my name on the front too."

"Were the letters… nice?" I asked, immediately feeling even more like a child.

I could almost hear him grin on the other end of the line, "Yes, they were nice," He assured me.

"Cool, now all I have to do is worry about fame going to my head," I joked.

"Well, expect those in a few days kiddo, talk to you then," Said Roy.

"Hey, its Miss Reid to you, I get enough of the nick-names here," I reminded him.

"Sure, sure. Talk to you in a few days."

"Bye, Roy." I snapped the phone shut and replaced it in my bag, listening to the sound of Garcia's fingers on the keyboard speed up. She had been listening intently to the conversation, but didn't hide it as well as Rossi had earlier. I blew out a sigh and leaned my head against the wall, watching the FBI logo on one of the screens rotate slowly. "Feel free to voice your opinion at any time Garcia."

Without missing a beat, the keyboard fell silent and the tech analyst's chair was parked at my side, "Well Sweetness, since you ask, I do have a little something to say on the subject. But, since big-brother-boy-genius and the ever-watchful Emily aren't around, that leaves me as the responsible adult, so I'm choosing not to share my ideas since the aforementioned responsible adults would probably disagree."Garcia took a short breath before continuing.

"What I will say is that you, my dear, are making a little bit of a big deal out of this. Rossi has billions of fan boys and girls, and he's just a huggable teddy bear with a graying mustache. Your charming care taker probably has a little gang of groupies at MIT or somewhere that are dying to get a piece of that. JJ is like the epitome of liaisons in this field, the big government conglomerates are practically begging her to join up with them. So, Pixie, a little fan mail is not going to end someone as well adjusted as you," She concluded, giving me a poke in the shoulder.

I glanced over at the practically sparkling face of Garcia, "Nice alliteration."

She grinned back at me happily, "Thank you, now if you'll excuse me, the current responsible-adult has to get back to work."


	108. Chapter 108

_After the end of 6x01_

In the weeks that followed the ordeal in Las Angeles, Derek slowly grew more cheerful, though he was never again the same as he had once been. Penelope and I did our best to cheer him up; I went as far as attempting what can only be described as perkiness to try to snap him out of his mood.

The 'fan mail' arrived over the course of a few days after the team returned, and it was only after picking up the first letter did I realize how nervous it all made me. So, after consulting with Spencer, I packed it all away in a box until I was ready to open it. I did look at the names and addresses on some of the envelopes, finding that most of them had indeed come from the FBI academy or from Hotch's old neighborhood.

It was my first week back to school after Christmas break and the New Year, so when Saturday rolled around I was more than happy to resume my routine of video games and reading. Spencer and I didn't see eye to eye on my plans. "Sara, get up," He said, leaning over the couch to look at me. "How don't you have a headache from that?" I had my feet up over the back of the couch, and my head was hanging back so I could read upside-down.

"I do, but I'm too lazy to move. You should try it," I suggested, not shifting my position. It was only nine in the morning, and I hadn't even changed out of my pajamas.

Spencer rolled his eyes, "If you want me to let you start college next year, you're going to have to break this lazy streak," He warned me, rolling his eyes.

"You're no fun," I said, dropping the book to the floor and rolling so I landed (more heavily than I'd intended) next to it. "Ow," I muttered, rubbing my forehead as my blood returned to its proper areas.

"Get dressed, I want to take you to a lecture," Spencer said, looping a tie around his neck and tightening it.

"Don't tell me we're going back to Strayter."

"No, Georgetown. My friend is a professor there, she's asked me to guest lecture today since it's the start of a new course," Spencer answered, seeming unaffected by my lack of enthusiasm.

"What's the class on?" I asked, readjusting my glasses on the bridge of my nose.

"Linguistics," He answered happily.

"No jokes this time?" I asked amusedly.

Spencer frowned, "No, Rossi and you have both made that quite clear to me in the past."

"I didn't mean it like that, just that those college students aren't smart enough to understand your humor," I smoothed over. Spencer smiled appreciatively and pointed to the direction of my room. I hung my head and begrudgingly went to get dressed.

An hour later Spencer led me into a lecture hall at Georgetown University, this was one of the few times I could remember Spencer being so comfortable when entering a crowded room. I however, was less comfortable. Ever since the events of the past summer, I'd reverted slightly and become increasingly nervous in new social situations like I had been when I was younger. Luckily my profiler family was not around me at school or most public places, so they hadn't picked up on the change as far as I knew.

"You want to find a seat?" Spencer asked, looking around the hall cheerfully as it slowly filled with students. I glanced around the room nervously but making no attempt to seek out a chair in the steadily rising rows of tables and chairs. "I'm sure you could strike up an interesting conversation with one of them-"

"After all, quite a few are as intelligent as you, Dr. Reid," A female voice interrupted us. I turned, finding that it belonged to a brunette woman in her forties or fifties. Her appearance reflected someone who was both intelligent and experienced, and her voice had the crispness of someone used to speaking professionally in front of others.

"Sara, this is Supervisory Special Agent Alex Blake," Spencer introduced me.

I raised my eyebrows slightly; somehow unsurprised that she was an Agent as well as a professor. "Dr. Reid, a pleasure as always. This must be the famous Sara Reid," She said, reaching out to shake Spencer's hand, but not mine.

"Famous?" I asked uncomfortably, having little doubt as to how she knew me.

"We studied your article in my class," She explained, sounding unconcerned.

"Your linguistics class..?" I asked, glancing up at Spencer for confirmation.

"Forensic linguistics," She corrected me. "We analyzed the speech patterns of victims of violent crimes in interviews, while withholding age, gender, and certain details of the crime that would reveal that information easily. By general consensus, you were a man in your early twenties. I'm not sure what that says about gender inequality, but it shows maturity for your age," Alex informed me. I clamped my jaw shut and nodded, unsure of how to answer. "In fact, when I revealed that you were a fifteen year old high school student, I believe that several of my students took it upon themselves to write to you about the subject, though I did not encourage it."

Well, that explained at least some of the letters. I looked up at Spencer again, wondering why he had subjected me to this, but he didn't seem surprised or put off by what Alex had told us. "Would any of those students happen to be in this class now?" I asked, glancing around the room again.

"A few if any," She answered. Then, as if picking up on my discomfort for the first time added, "You can easily go anonymous here."

"Um…ok. I'm going to find a seat," I said hurriedly, skipping my usual 'and nice meeting you' to scurry away. I chose a seat in the second row towards the right if the room, since I knew that Spencer preferred that side when lecturing. I'd seen enough of his recruitment speeches to know this, also because I wanted as much distance between myself and Alex Blake as possible.

It wasn't so much her bluntness that had put me off, or even her use of the phrase 'victim of a violent crime' that bothered me. For one, she had a sort of intelligence that I wasn't used to. It was like Spencer's, but more condescending, and I wondered briefly if that was how other people perceived Spencer too. It was the feeling of intrusiveness that I'd gotten when she said that the article had been studied in her class. I'd realized soon after the incident with Foyet that I would be at least a little bit known to some people of course, several articles had been written about the entire incident, all of which I was mentioned in by name.

What I didn't like was the idea of being studied and watched. I'd gotten enough of that feeling from Foyet himself. I didn't like the praise I'd gotten because of the incident, and I certainly didn't like the added recognition. I remembered what Hotch had told me, "If you plan on an FBI career, this is going to follow you."

"Good afternoon everyone, and welcome to Forensic Linguistics. My name is SSA Dr. Spencer Reid; your professor was kind enough to invite me to lecture for your class today. Now, linguistics is a specialty that is called upon heavily in the FBI. It is incredibly useful in the apprehension of an unsub, or unidentified subject…" Spencer voice broke me out of my thoughts.

I kept my eyes focused on him for the rest of the talk, at the same time conscious of anyone that glanced in my direction. I was always like this now, and it had gotten worse this past week. I'd finally joined the seniors in class during the day, forced from my comfortable shelter of the library. I had also realized that week exactly how scared I still was.


	109. Chapter 109

_Episode 6x02 JJ_

Dr. Spencer Reid awoke promptly at 5:58, waited the extra two minutes for his alarm to go off, and silenced it. He sniffed once, listened for sounds of movement in the apartment, and got up. A few seconds later he was across the hall and in the bathroom. He didn't feel like blinding himself with the harsh lights, so he left them off, only to trip over a small bundle of clothes that had been left on the mat in front of the shower. Spencer scowled, pushed them off to the side and made a mental note to tell Sara to pick them up later. She'd not only been growing steadily lazier, but had also been slacking in her chores, something that had never been a problem in the fifteen months she'd been there. Perhaps she was finally comfortable enough to leave a mess?

Now wary of unseen dangers, Spencer flipped the light switch on to find his sink counter covered in unidentifiable makeup. Reminding himself that they'd soon have their own bathrooms, Spencer washed his face and brushed his teeth, inspecting himself in the mirror- no, he didn't need to shave today. Satisfied, he returned to his room as Sara's familiar waking-up sounds grew down the hall. Checking his clock, it was only 6:15. He got dressed in his usual button down, vest, and dress pants, and then resumed his listening. Sara should have stumbled her way to the bathroom by now, but she hadn't. Curious, Spencer took the short walk to his sister's room, finding the door still shut, though the light was on. "Sara?" He called apprehensively. "It's time to get up."

"I'm sick," Was the reply.

Having recently been instilled with the ability to tell whether or not your child is sick, Spencer wasn't buying it. "Mind if I come in?" He asked, hand on the doorknob.

"Yes! I mean, yes I mind. Just hang on ok," Was the jumbled reply. "Ok, fine," Came through the door a few moments later.

"Sick, eh?" The Doctor asked doubtfully. Sara was curled up in bed, giving her best impression of illness. "You're fine. Come on, get up, if you don't make it to class then you'll never graduate and never get Hotch's office." He could have sworn she mumbled something like 'don't care about the office.' "What?" Spencer asked, stepping out into the hall.

"I said it's only a half day today anyways," She called after him, sounding a little angry with him.

"Well, I'll expect you at noon then, now get up Sunshine."

xxxx

At 12:32 I was stepping out of the elevator and heading for the bullpen. School had been its usual brand of torture, not that I'd let it show. Knowing that I only had to endure six more months was a blessing. The televisions were on and most of the agents had their attention fixed on the current story, but not my team. Spencer was perched on Emily's desk, where he, Emily and Garcia were closely watching the window to Hotch's office.

"Is she still in there?" Penelope asked, placing a hand on the back of Emily's chair.

"Is who is still in there?" I asked, noticing that the office blinds were shut.

"JJ, and Strauss," Emily answered with obvious distaste. Spencer reached for a plastic bottle of milk candies and popped a few into his mouth, "Oh, again with the dairy?" Emily asked.

"Can't help it, I love dairy," Spencer replied, not seeming too phased.

"It's been like what, twenty minutes?" Penelope asked, sounding irritated.

"And in ten more minutes we're in the air," Derek said, his sudden appearance causing me to jump, not that anyone noticed.

"I don't think it's about the case," Said Emily, giving me a questioning look. Great, she'd noticed.

"Do you know something?" Garcia asked, looking down expectantly at Emily.

"Do I know something?"

Taking that as confirmation, Penelope turned to Derek, "She just repeated the question, you always say that's a sign."

"Well, do you know why JJ's in there?" Derek asked again.

Emily shook her head, "I have no idea."

"What is going on?" Penelope demanded, sounding a little helpless.

"Maybe she asked for a raise," Spencer suggested, earning an eye-roll from me and another look of disgust from Prentiss.

"Have his blinds ever been closed?" Penelope asked.

"Only when I first got here," I answered, hoping that if I concentrated hard enough on the blinds they would magically open. It startled me when Strauss appeared instead. The group I was with quickly averted their gaze, which of course wasn't obvious at all. I decided to change tactics and go stand with Rossi, who had just appeared in his own office doorway.

"Hey kiddo," Rossi greeted me. He seemed to be watching the other profilers watching the office window.

"Hey Uncle Dave," I answered, leaning against the section of wall beside him.

"I hadn't realized that Morgan made you so jumpy," He mentioned casually.

Shoot.

"You saw that?"

"I'm not the only one who's noticed," Rossi answered, giving me a sideways glance beneath his graying eyebrows.

"Who else?"

"Prentiss of course, you're always on her radar," He said like it was obvious.

I shifted nervously and crossed my arms, "It's nothing, really."

Dave looked like he wanted to reply, but was distracted by the appearance of JJ and Hotch, who had finally left the office. I noticed with amusement that the team jerked their attention away from the door as soon as she'd appeared. "You'd think profilers would cover better than that, wouldn't you?" Rossi said, turning his attention to JJ. I took that as an opportunity to leave, since JJ probably wasn't going to discuss what had happened with Strauss anyway.

xxxx

"How's your day been going?" John asked, setting his lunch tray beside me. His half year electives schedule meant that he was still in the same lunch period as me, though none of my other friends were.

"Same as usual," I answered, rolling my water bottle back and forth across the table.

"I'm sure it's not that bad," He smiled, digging into his mashed potatoes. "These are terrible," He commented, and then ate another large spoonful.

"Then why are you eating them?" I asked, watching as my charming boyfriend swirled them around on his plate before grimacing through another large bite.

He shrugged, "Southern-boy code of conduct, eat what's on your plate."

I laughed and pointed to my bagged lunch with a straw wrapper, "Fending-for-yourself-for-a decade code of conduct, make your own food."

"So, have you been sleeping well again?"

"Nice transition."

"No, seriously," John insisted, finishing the last of his food and pushing the tray away. "Besides, getting texts from you at 1 am about it sort of makes it a two way street," He reminded me.

"Sorry about those," I blushed. I hadn't wanted to wake up Spencer because he would have worried, but I didn't want to be left alone with my thoughts either.

John shook his head, "It's fine. So have you called your Dad?"

"No, I'm not going to," I said determinedly, but more for my sake than his.

"Well what's been bugging you? It's not healthy."

"Just… a lot of stuff's been coming back to me, that's all."

"Maybe you should talk to JJ or Emily about it, Moms are good at that sort of thing," John suggested. I hugged him around the shoulders as the bell rang, and he gave me a peck on the cheek. "Just promise me you'll think about it, I don't want you to get sick over whatever's getting to you."

xxxx

The team was back that night, still in the same clothes they'd left in, and something was wrong.

When they got off the elevator, they scattered. JJ and Hotch went to the conference room, and the other profilers to their respective desks, talking quietly amongst themselves. "Guys, what's wrong?" I kept asking, but no one would answer me. When Hotch walked by and shut himself in his office, everyone stopped talking and watched him in silence, then turned to watch JJ through the conference room table. She sat down at the round table and began filling out some kind of file. "Wait… you don't mean she's…" I started to say, and Emily nodded, confirming my fear.

When she returned a while later, I was left without any doubt as to what was happening.

"No," Emily said, standing up from her desk to face JJ.

"Wait a minute, I thought Hotch was supposed to-" Derek started to say.

"It's above his pay grade," JJ said simply, "Strauss' too."

"They can't just take you away," Spencer said numbly, glaring at the floor.

"So, we do nothing?" Emily asked, her eyes had started to glaze over now, and I felt my chest tighten.

"It's done," JJ nodded, her grip tightening on the file she carried.

"It can't be that simple," Said Derek.

"It is."

"This job is hard enough, what are they trying to do, bury us?" Derek said angrily, turning to look at the rest of us.

Emily sniffed, "You're too good, and that's the problem."

"It's true, you're on everybody's wish list," Said Rossi, speaking up for the first time. "Our loss is somebody else's gain.

By now JJ's eyes had also begun to glaze over and redden.

"They can't just take you away," Spencer said quietly, sounding as helpless as we all felt.

"It's not fair," I managed to say, a few tears escaping from my eyes.

I could feel that reality crash down around me again, nothing was fair. Their job wasn't fair, life wasn't fair, and Strauss wasn't fair. None of it was fair. I felt Emily's hand close around mine and I squeezed it appreciatively, grateful that I still had her to hold onto as JJ turned away from us.

Once she was gone from our sight was when I truly began to cry. Emily wrapped her arms around my shoulders, running a hand over my hair while I hugged her back and cried. "They can't take her, she's ours," I repeated into Emily's shoulder. "She's our family. I don't want someone else to have her; she's one of us, not them."

"I know, I know," Emily answered soothingly. "It will all be ok, we'll get her back. Somehow."

"_Don't let your happiness depend on something you may lose."_


	110. Chapter 110

_Episode 6x04_

Moving for the first time was one of the worst feelings I'd ever had. Not only had that been the place where my life started, it was where my mother's life ended. I suppose that's where part of my life ended too. What had made it even worse was knowing that I had nowhere to go when I left. Moving the second time was still a sad feeling, but in a different way. This time I was leaving a home where I'd been happy. This time I knew where I was going. And this time, someone was coming with me.

"Spence, did you get the box from my room?" I yelled out into the apartment hallway.

"No, I got it," Derek yelled back.

"Thanks," I called.

"What about the stuff under the sink? Who got that?" Emily asked from Spencer's room.

"Which sink?" I asked. "Bathroom or kitchen?"

"Never mind, I got them," Emily answered. "I can't believe you two waited until today to pack," She complained, shifting her hold on the cardboard box containing our small collection of soaps and cleaning supplies.

"Well, somehow the guy with the eidetic memory forgot that we were moving today instead of next week," I answered, opening each of the kitchen cabinet doors to ensure that all the cups and plates had been taken out. "We were going to pack sooner but you guys were in Bristol."

Derek appeared in the kitchen doorway. "That's the last of it, Glasses," he announced.

I looked around the kitchen again, "Are you sure? Did you get the stuff from-?"

"We got everything Sara," Emily cut me off. We'd been playing this game for the last fifteen minutes; I'd ask where something was and send someone to find it again. I'll admit it, I was stalling.

"Time to go," Said Spencer, appearing in the doorway as well. Emily tapped Morgan on the shoulder and the two silently left the apartment, leaving Spencer and I alone to say goodbye.

"This is it," I said sadly.

"This is it," Spencer repeated, shoving his hands into his pockets and glancing around.

"You remember the first time we tried to cook in here? We managed to make some really soggy pasta I think," I said thoughtfully.

"I was so nervous, I had no idea what to say to you," Spencer confessed, smiling back at me.

"Well, I'm glad we got over it. It would have been a very quiet fifteen months if we hadn't."

Spencer and I stepped out into the living room and glanced around. It was completely empty, no evidence that we had ever been there was left but a light outline on the floor from our furniture. "I slept on the couch the first night you got here," Spencer said suddenly, looking around the room with a fond expression.

"What? Why?" I asked curiously, adjusting the locket Spencer had given me for Christmas on my neck. It was still empty, I'd never figured out what to put inside.

"I thought you were going to run away."

That statement alone nearly brought tears to my eyes, and I reached out to wrap my arms around Spencer's middle, pressing my face against his sweater. The material was just itchy enough to be comfortable, and I stood like that for a while, breathing in his scent. He smelled like deodorant and coffee.

"Time to go?" Spencer asked quietly, rubbing small circles on my back.

"Time to go," I repeated.

-x-X-x-

"Welcome home Reids!" Garcia cried, flinging open the door of our new apartment and pulling us inside. "I got dinner!"

The new apartment was also empty, with the exception of Penelope and several containers of Chinese food. Emily and Derek wandered in behind us a moment later and looked around the living room. Emily smirked when she saw the bookshelves, which is almost immediately after you open the door. The four of us followed Garcia to our new kitchen where she began passing out the take out containers and chopsticks.

"Aren't there any forks?" I asked, looking at the chopsticks skeptically. While I'd always been a fan of Chinese food, I preferred to eat it with western utensils.

"Sorry Pixie, no forks," Penelope said, starting on her container of noodles.

"Could we get some from the van?" I asked helplessly, having never even attempted to eat with chopsticks before.

Derek smiled knowingly at Spencer and answered, "They're buried at the very back kid, no can do."

"Here, take your hair ties out," Spencer instructed, holding his hand out for them.

"Why?"

"Just do it, you'll see."

I rolled my eyes and tugged my hair ties out, leaving my hair a wavy mess. "Here," I said, handing them over. Spencer picked up my chopsticks and tied one of the hair ties around the end, then did the same to his pair.

"JJ showed me this a few years ago, it helps some," He explained, handing them back to me.

I smiled appreciatively and started to work on my own container, dropping more than half of what I managed to pick up back into the box. Spencer wasn't managing much better than I was, but Derek, Emily and Garcia seemed to be enjoying the show.

"Is it weird with her not being there?" I asked, leaning up against the counter. Between school and a strict video game schedule with Rossi, I hadn't been to the BAU for several days.

"Yeah, it is. We miss her," Emily answered, taking the spot on the counted beside me. "She's going to like this place though guys, it's great," She added, changing the subject.

"Pretty big change from the old place," Derek agreed.

"Might be a little more homelike if we got our furniture in here," I suggested, finally giving up on finishing the Chinese.

Derek sighed and set his container down as well, "C'mon kid, let's get the heavy stuff out of the way first," He said, slapping Spencer on the shoulder as he passed. Spencer, Emily and Penelope sat their empty take out boxes on the counter and followed us downstairs to begin the moving-in process.

-x-X-x-

If the BAU was weird without JJ, it was utterly foreign without Garcia. Perhaps taking what I'd said a few days earlier as incentive, Penelope had somehow convinced Hotch to let her become the team's liaison for a trial period. When I asked her what I was supposed to do with myself while she was gone she'd answered, "You could hang out with Kevin or Anderson."

Kevin or Anderson. Kevin or Anderson? Really?

But rather than break my after school routine, I continued showing up at the BAU, setting up shop in Penelope's lair or at Spencer or Emily's desk, doing homework and leaving. While this wasn't in anyway interesting, making sure Strauss didn't catch me loitering was distraction enough for me.

While I hadn't appreciated Garcia's initial advice to hang out with him, I discovered very quickly that Anderson is very good at staring contests. He'd been at the BAU as long as I could remember, but I was never quite sure what his job was. He couldn't be much older than Spencer; he was clean-cut, and appeared to do whatever the other agents didn't feel like doing themselves.

One late evening we were involved in one of these long-distance staring contests between math homework and phone calls (there was a silent agreement that the game would pause every time his phone rang) when the team got back.

I was happy to see that Penelope was back in her usual attire, rather than the primarily black and gray choices I'd helped her with before they'd left for Akron. She branched off from the rest of the team and headed to her office while the rest began streaming towards their desks. Since I was currently stationed at Emily's desk, she was the first one I talked to.

"How'd it go?" I asked, nodding to Anderson to say that we'd resume the battle of wills later.

"Well, I got to pretend to be a swinger and hit on the unsub," She answered, giving me an overly exaggerated grimace.

"Why do they always send you to do the creepy stuff?" I complained, giving her a one armed hug as I surrendered her desk chair.

"Eh, you know me, I just live for that stuff," She shrugged, setting her stack of manila folders on the desk and taking a seat.

I walked around the cluster of desks to Spencer's and perched on the edge, "Are you set to leave? I'm starving," I informed him. "And we still have to finish unpacking."

"I thought you were going to do it while I was gone."

"I was, got bored. Can we go?" I asked again. Spencer sighed and nodded, grabbing his bag and setting the strap on his shoulder. I waved goodbye to Anderson and followed Spencer out the glass doors towards the elevator. "How'd Penelope do as liaison?" I asked when the mirrored doors had slid shut in front of us.

"Pretty well, thought I doubt she'll be trying it again."

"Too bad," I said. While I was grateful that I'd have her around again, I began wondering if and when they'd replace JJ. It was one thing for the Pentagon to have taken her from us, but the thought of Hotch or Strauss replacing her was unbearable.

"So, you made friends with Anderson?" Spencer smirked, folding his hands in front of his and rocking back and forth on his heels. "I thought you didn't like him."

"Yeah I guess, and I never said I didn't like him, I just liked avoiding him."

"Did he tell you what a huge Trekkie he is?" Spencer asked. "I used to play a trivia drinking game with him and Sharp at The Auld Dubliner."

The elevator stopped on the ground floor and slid open, letting us out into the lobby. It was mostly empty with the exception of a few guards and one or two agents who were chatting by the metal detectors. We bypassed these and made our way out to the parking lot to find the car. "No, he didn't tell me that, he didn't tell me anything actually."

"Then what'd you talk about?" Spencer asked curiously, starting the car and fiddling with the air vents.

"Nothing, we didn't speak for two days."Spencer looked like he wanted to say something, but thought better of it and changed his mind. My phone buzzed in my pocket as we pulled out of the parking area.

_Want to do something this weekend? –JL_

_Yes please, talk to you tomorrow though? –SR_

_Sounds good, goodnight :) –JL_

'_Night :) –SR _

"Was that John?" Spencer asked.

"Yes it was, if you must know," I replied sarcastically, mentally confused by the route we were taking to get home. I then remembered that home was now in the opposite direction that it usually was. I hadn't had this problem for the past two days because I'd been camped in Garcia's empty apartment.

"Will you be seeing him this weekend?"

"Yes I will."

Spencer sighed again, "It's not that I dislike him. I mean, Emily approves of him, so that earns him some points-"

"Your point being?" I interrupted.

"Well, why couldn't you just hang out at home, or go to work and stare at Anderson for more two days?" Spencer suggested, only half joking.

"And you say you don't dislike him."

Spencer parked the car in the street in front of the brownstone apartment building where we now lived. "Home sweet home," I said, looking up at the fourth floor and locating our windows in the middle. Yes, moving for the second time was much better than the first time I concluded.


	111. Chapter 111

_Author's note: Episode 6x08. Also, what family position do you see everyone in the FBI having in relation to Sara? This can include Anderson and Strauss. I'm curious._

"Kelly Landis went missing three days ago. Two days ago, Georgetown monitor received this, so whoever took this took Kelly," Said Garcia, gesturing to the round table room monitor. I was stationed on the cushioned bench in the back corner of the room, wondering how long it would take before I wanted to run out of the room and never come back. So far, so good. Since the previous month, Hotch hadn't told me to leave the conference room, so I was enjoying testing my boundaries. That was really the only thing enjoyable about it.

"And wanted the world to know it," Said Hotch. "Is that you?" He asked quietly, looking at something on the table that Penelope had pulled out of her bag. That perked my interest, and I sat up a little to try and see what he was asking about, but Penelope was already covering it with some files.

"Where was her body found?" Rossi asked.

"She was found in Georgetown, in an alley late last night," She answered, still a little shaken from whatever Hotch had seen. Now I really wanted to know what was in her bag.

"I sent Morgan and Prentiss," Hotch informed us.

"Only one victim?" Rossi asked, which is what I had been wondering about as well.

Hotch nodded, "It's what he did to her that concerns me."

Garcia handed Spencer one of her files, "Morgan sent these last night."

"He and Prentiss are waiting in the district."

"The body seems posed," Spencer said, setting down his sandwich to look at the files. I wondered briefly why I had let him bring that into the conference room in the first place. "Left arm raised… oh that's a first, I can see your area of concern."

"The photo wasn't all he took," Rossi mused aloud.

"Reid, what?" Penelope asked.

"Her lips have been removed," Spencer answered. I felt my stomach flip-flop as I made guesses about what the unsub might have done with them, and when he removed them.

"Maybe a trophy?" Rossi suggested.

Spencer took another bite of his sandwich, "Maybe he ate them."

"Ok, I have that memory burned in my mind for the rest of my life," Penelope said, sounding more than a little disgusted.

"Me too," I added from my corner. And I meant it literally.

"You asked," Spencer shrugged.

"Think that's bad, you should see what we found in the drain this morning," I said.

-x-X-x-

A few days later the team was back and Spencer and I were enjoying rearranging the furniture every few minutes. I was curled up on the sofa with a book and Spencer was reading as well, less comfortably than me since he had my feet across his lap (which he insisted were like ice and that I probably had poor circulation). There was a knock on the door and Spencer looked at me expectantly.

"You gonna get that?" I asked sarcastically.

Spencer rolled his eyes and blew out an exaggerated sigh, pushing my feet off his lap and putting his book on the coffee table, "Fine."

"Hey Reid," I heard from the front door.

"Hi Emily, come in," Spencer said, letting her inside.

"Would it be ok if I borrowed Sara for a few hours? She asked, settling down into Spencer's armchair. "I want to go cat shopping."

"Sure, go ahead," Spencer answered. "Is your homework done?" He asked me.

"It's been done since yesterday," I responded, setting my book down on the stack of completed assignments. "Where are we going?"

"The SPCA's having an adoption thing at the mall, we'll go there."

"You could just call Mick," I suggested, grinning at her cheekily.

Emily rolled her eyes, "Enough with the Mick Rawson ok! You coming or what?"

-x-X-x-

"How about… William," I said, passing along the row of cages in the center of the mall corridor and reading the tags attached. "He's cute," I add, running my finger across the bars on the front.

"Eh…" Emily said for the fourth or fifth time.

I rolled my eyes, "Fine, we'll keep looking."

"Are you going to be willing to cat sit for me?" Emily asked, peering into a few more cages.

"Sure, it'll be fun to have a pet again."

"Again?" Emily asked curiously.

I shrugged, "Mom and I had this pet hamster after Dad left, Zachariah. He ran away a few weeks after we got him. Honestly, I think Mom just forgot to latch his crate."

Emily raised an eyebrow, "Zachariah?"

I waved her off, "She went through a phase… Oh! Look, this one's named Jedi! That's awesome!" I exclaimed, spotting a gray cat snoozing in the back of a crate.

Emily stopped at my shoulder and looked in, "I don't think I should commit to a roommate based on his or her name," She said skeptically.

"Like this one, he's called Spike. That's unfortunate," I laughed, looking into the next cage at a black cat. "You don't look much like a Spike to me. Nah," I said, tapping at the front of the crate to get his attention. The cat looked up at us and moseyed to the front of the crate, sitting down and looking me squarely in the face. "I think he agrees with me, Spike is an awful name."

Spike put a paw up against the wire cage front and scratched against it, Emily smiled. "Definitely not a Spike," She agreed, sticking her finger through the slots. Spike sniffed it warily and then pushed his head against it. Emily scratched him behind the ear through the cage, earning an appreciative purr.

"Could we see this guy?" Emily asked the SPCA volunteer.

"Sure," She said happily, stepping over to the cage and opening the door. She lifted Spike up and out of the crate, a lot of cooing sounds accompanying the action. "Here you go," She said, setting the cat on the floor by our feet and returning to her desk.

"Hey buddy, glad to get out of the crate, huh?" Emily asked Spike as he rubbed against her pant leg. "I don't think you'll be back in there for very long, you're coming home with me."

I grinned down at Spike, "Welcome to this weird family, you'll probably be the only one they don't profile."

The SPCA volunteer took Spike back to his crate, informing us that we'd be able to pick him up in about an hour after their vet checked him over once more. "You need anything while we're here?" Emily asked me as we strolled around the mall.

I spotted a jewelry store near the end of the aisle, "Could I get my ears pierced?" I asked suddenly, spotting a chair with a small sign on it inside the shop.

"Oh, are you sure?" Emily asked, looking down at me in surprise.

"Yeah, I'll just get it over with," I answered, starting to walk over to the store.

Emily stopped and pulled out her cell phone, "I'm going to call your brother to check."

-x-X-x-

"Piercing guns were originally developed for tagging livestock," Spencer informed me.

"Thanks."

"The Piercing Professionals Association doesn't recommend the use of piercing guns for any type of piercing," He continued, this time while the girl working at the store was within earshot.

"Spencer, you're embarrassing me, please stop," I hissed, not wanting to take my chances letting someone we'd offended stab me through the earlobes.

"Hi, are we all ready?" The girl asked, if she had been listening to what Spencer said she hadn't shown it. "If you could just sign this for me sir," She said, handing him a clipboard with a release form on it so we couldn't sue the store if my ears got infected. Spencer took it and glanced up at me, raising one eyebrow. I nodded and he signed the form. "Aright, if you could just sit back as far in the chair as you can, this'll be over in just a minute," The girl said, getting an alcohol swab out from beneath the counter and wiping off my earlobes.

Emily was standing back and calmly observing, while Spencer looked like he was about to start bouncing off the walls from anxiety, he seemed at least three times as nervous as I was. The piercing girl picked up the little white gun and loaded it with the silver studs I'd picked. As she was doing this, a mother and a girl about half my age appeared at the counter and started looking at the ear-piercing price chart. "I can help you in a few minutes if you'd like," The piercing girl said. She picked up a pen and put a small dot on each of my ears, then moved back in front of me rapidly a few times, determining whether they were even or not.

"Oh, that's alright," The mother said. A moment later she and the little girl left the store and headed down the hall.

The piercing girl watched after them for a minute. "They're going to Piercing Pagoda, I can feel it," She said with certainty. "Yep, that's where they're going." Spencer now seemed even more nervous about letting this girl anywhere near my ears, but I wasn't about to let him stop here. "Great, so do want me to count down from three or…"

"You can just do it," I said.

The girl nodded and held the piercing gun up to me ear, lining it up with the dots she'd made. Spencer was frowning and rocking back and forth rapidly on his heels. I saw Emily tap him on the shoulder and then tug him towards the back of the store. I blew out a sigh of relief and the girl smirked at me. "You're lucky your Mom's a little more low-key than your Dad, mine flipped when I got these done," She said, pointing with her free hand to her own heavily pierced ears. "He was a little more upset with this one though," She added, flicking her fringe to the side to show me her eyebrow was pierced a few times as well. "Don't tell my manager though, he'd freak. This is supposed to be a classy establishment."

The was a clicking sound in my ear and I felt a small pinch, "That's one," She said. "Your Dad just jumped about a foot," She informed me. She switched to my other ear and repeated the action. "You're done, how's it look?" She asked, handing me a small mirror.

"Good, thank you," I said. My earlobes were bright red, but the earrings were even.

"She's all done," The girl called to Emily and Spencer. "Clean them three times a day for six weeks, and turn them a few times a day," She told me, handing me a bottle of solution.

Emily led Spencer back over, "See, she's fine!"

The girl smirked again, "Your folks are cute."

"Yeah they are," I agreed, not bothering to correct her. Knowing that I gave off the impression of having my own little family unit was nice, and I'd take it if I could get it.

"Let's go pick up Spike," I said to Emily, noticing only a slight sting in my ears.

"We are definitely renaming him," Emily said determinedly, taking the bottle from me and putting it in her bag.

-x-X-x-

"At some point, all of us are forced to face the truth- ourselves."

The team and I were nestled into the back row of the darkened theater, completely mesmerized by the actress on stage- our Penelope. She was alone beneath a single spotlight, looking out at us through a glass pane which served as a mirror. She applied blood-red lipstick to her lips and continued her monologue. "For me that day has come."

The mysterious object Hotch had discovered in Penelope's bag had turned out to be flyers for a stage production she starred in, and the entire team had turned up for the last show.

"I was eighteen when I faced a man who chose to embrace his dark side, and by doing so he took my humanity. Every day since I have put on a mask to hide what now suffocates me." Penelope drew a heart on the mirror so it framed her face, and I felt a shiver run through me. "The truth. And nothing speaks louder than that truth."

I suppose that I wasn't the only one who felt me shiver; Emily put her hand over my wrist and whispered, "Are you ok?" I shook my head yes, but it was a lie, and I realized with equal certainty and dread that I _needed_ to tell someone. It had been long enough. The thing I had been hiding for almost two years had been eating away at me more and more in the last few months, and that coupled with my residual fears from the Foyet incident, was slowly going to make me disappear. While my situation wasn't comparable to that of the character Penelope portrayed, I had been wearing a mask for months, and it needed to come off.

A man appeared under his own spotlight in stage. "Melissa Crane," Said Penelope, turning towards him.

"Get out," Said the man. His voice made me shiver again; in the darkened theater I could too easily imagine him as Foyet.

"Allison Gardner."

"Get out before I call the police," Said the man with increasing hostility.

"I called them, and they'll be here. But not before I'm done," Penelope said, her voice going dead.

"Done, done with what?" The man asked.

Penelope raised her arm and a single shot rang out in the theatre, and the man sank to the floor. "Nine girls you raped and you butchered. You took from them what you took for me, but I survived." She leaned forward and whispered into his ear, "You should have killed me." The man hit the floor and the lights went down. I felt numb inside.

The stage lights went up again; Penelope and her costar Garret Feld were standing again, hand in hand. The theatre patrons rose to their feet collectively, leaving me in my seat. "You alright kid?" Derek asked, looking down at me in my seat.

"Fine, my leg fell asleep," I answered, rising to my feet to join the applause. "She was amazing," I said over the roar that now filled the room. The applause was as loud as a thunder-storm, only rivaled by the shout of, "Yeah baby girl!" That came from Derek.

I grinned down at Penelope who was arm in arm with her acting partner, easily hiding the overwhelming lack of feeling I was experiencing. I needed to tell someone what happened all those months ago, and soon.


	112. Chapter 112

_Episode 6x12 Corazon _

"Just tell someone. It wasn't your fault. You're not guilty of anything. Just tell him," I persuaded myself in front of the bathroom mirror. My fingers wrapped around the edge of the sink tightly in a white knuckled grip to keep my weak knees from buckling. "It's been a year, nine months, and eighteen days since then, you need to tell someone or you're going to lose it. Come on," I murmured, staring myself dead in the eyes. "They're not going to think any less of you." With that, I pushed myself away from the mirror and shut off the bathroom light.

I opened the bottom drawer of my dresser and pushed the pile of heavy winter sweaters aside, unearthing the little brown box that once contained a small order of prayer cards for my mother, all of which I'd thrown away. What it now contained was something I hated beyond limit, yet knew I could never part with.

My hands shook as I touched the lid, ready to open it. "Just do it, don't freeze," I told myself angrily. I yanked the box lid off and looked at the small piece of paper folded inside. It was severely crumpled from all the times I'd crushed it into a ball, ready to throw it away, burn it, or tear it into a thousand pieces and scatter them, but never had. Gingerly, I picked it up by the corner so that it stayed folded. I didn't want to read a single letter of what was inside, not yet, not ever.

I exhaled and then inhaled deeply, trying in vain to calm myself. "Get it over with," I whispered, dropping the box on my bed and crumpling the note loosely in my hand, forcing myself from the confines of my bedroom and into the hall. Determined, I walked down the hall, past the kitchen and into the living room where I had left Spencer a few hours earlier- he wasn't there. I felt a small tremor of relief, perhaps he'd gone out and I wouldn't be able to tell him. Then I remembered how'd he been rubbing his head earlier and realized that he was probably in his room recovering from a headache.

After re-convincing myself that I could walk, even while carrying this awful paper in my hand, I turned myself back to the hall and made the short journey to Spencer's room. I pushed the door open, finding that the lights were out so the room was dark, except for the thin strips of sunshine on the carpet from the partly open blinds. Spencer was turned away from the doorway, his body curled up on the bed, a medication bottle beside him.

My heart stopped.

"Spencer?" I squeaked, breaking the hold that my nerves had over me and ran to his bedside, throwing the paper in my hand on the floor. Either he didn't hear me or couldn't, because he didn't move. My second observation was that there was an open notebook on his bedside table, and that the pill bottle was empty. "How many did you take?" I asked his non responsive form desperately as I grabbed the phone from his bedside, trying to still my shaking hands enough to dial 911.

"Two," Spencer groaned, hearing his voice brought me so much relief that I almost collapsed.

I was nearly hyperventilating by then, but he didn't seem to have noticed. I dropped the phone to the ground and fell to my knees beside it, sucking in air through my nose since both my hands covered my mouth. "I thought… that you…" I managed between breaths, now ready to cry.

Spencer slowly rolled over and looked down at me, "It's just a headache, what's the matter?" He asked, his voice was strained and I could tell he was in pain. "I'm going to a doctor later, calm down," He told me, reaching over the side of the mattress to shake me by the shoulder. "Sara, what's wrong with you? Are you having a panic attack?" He asked, sitting up carefully and trying to pull me up from the ground.

Suddenly realizing that it wasn't hidden anymore, I scrambled across the floor on hands and knees, looking desperately for the paper. I crumpled it more and shoved it deep into my pocket; I wasn't ready, especially after that. "I saw the pill bottle, I thought that you'd-" I couldn't finish the sentence. I felt a stream of hot tears run down my face and I pulled myself up from the floor. "Sorry, it's nothing, I'm just not feeling well," I said quickly, and stumbled out of the room into the hall, shutting the door behind me.

I got back to my room as quickly as possible, locking the door behind me and then locking myself into the bathroom. I slammed against the door with my back and slid to the floor, my body overtaken with internalized sobs, causing me to shudder violently and more tears streaked down my face. I'd sniff hard and then exhale rapidly, trying to force the feelings to go away. Hurt, betrayal, guilt, shame. It came back like a landslide, and I wondered for the thousandth time why I hadn't done something different. I yearned desperately for the feeling of numbness that I'd felt for so long, but it was gone now.

I felt vulnerable again and I hated it.

I pulled the crumpled paper from pocket and glared at it, crushing it as tightly as I could in my fist. Then, for a split second, I considered opening it. And I was opening it, slowly unfolding the thousands of creases and wrinkles until I could read the first few words.

_Sara,_

_Please try to understand this, because it is the last thing I-_

"No!" I yelled, crushing the paper again and whipping it violently at the wall, taking no satisfaction in the action. In fact, it angered me that the paper didn't care that I'd hurt it.

There was a light knock on the door, just above me, "Sara, are you alright? Please come out, you're scaring me." Spencer had somehow gotten past my locked bedroom door. He sounded exhausted, and I felt even more guilty for having even thought about bothering him with this.

"I'm fine Spence, go rest, please," I said though the door, praying that the shakiness of my voice wasn't noticeable.

"I'm not going anywhere, now please open this door," He said gently, his voice muffled on the other side of the thick wooden door.

I grabbed the note and put it back in my pocket before reaching up and turning the door handle so it unlocked, pulling off my glasses and hurriedly wiping my face with my other hand. The door opened behind me and Spencer stepped inside, shut it behind him and slowly sat down on the floor beside me.

"You're not alright," He said quietly.

"No," I answered, willing myself to calm down. "I'm not."

Spencer didn't look at me, and I watched him massage his temples through the corner of my eye. "How long has it hurt?" I asked.

"Not that long."

"How long is not that long?" I asked.

"Maybe two days," He admitted. "What about you, how long has it hurt?"

"Almost two years."

"What can I do?" Spencer asked me, and I hated myself for putting more of a burden on him when he was in so much pain.

"Just stay. Promise you won't leave."

"I promise."

_So much of what is best in us is bound up in our love of family, that it remains the measure of our stability, because it measures our sense of loyalty. _


	113. Chapter 113

Episode 6x14 I'd really appreciate feedback on this chapter, and thank you as always for the lovely reviews!

* * *

Agent Hotchner glanced out his office window at the bull pen and spotted a familiar sight, the younger of the Reid's blonde head bent over Prentiss's empty desk. He watched her pass from desk to desk, still in school uniform for the day. He was surprised to see her wave to Anderson; he hadn't realized they were acquainted.

Hotch picked up on something while watching her, she looked almost as if she were on auto-pilot. She would reach a desk, say something to one of the agents, hesitate, reach into her pocket, and then swiftly turn to the next desk. Odd. Something had been off about Sara for the past few weeks, but it was slight. Perhaps a poor mark in school? The agent shook his head and returned to his paper work.

A few minutes later there was a tentative knock on the office door. "Come in," He said, not looking up from the file. The door opened slowly, and Sara swung her head in.

"Hey, Hotch are you busy?" She asked quietly, stealing a glance behind her. Hotch glanced out the window again, none of the agents had noticed her absence.

"No, come in," He answered, closing the case file. He'd already called for a meeting in fifteen minutes, but he could spare a few while Garcia prepared for the presentation.

The hand went into the pocket again, and came out empty. "I was… um… could I talk to you about something?" Sara asked, looking ready to bolt from the room. She sounded upset, and Hotch went to stand up from the desk so he could sit next to her in some of his office chairs. "No, could you stay there actually?" She asked, gesturing back to the chair he was in.

"Alright," He said, gesturing to the chair across the desk from him.

Sara sat down on the edge of the chair and stared down at her knees for a moment or two. "The counselors at the house where I stayed had an office sort of like this, every time she wanted to talk about my Mom dying she'd sit near me and it always bugged me," She explained, feeling whatever was in her pocket again.

"Is that what you're here to talk about? Your Mom dying?" Hotch asked, making sure to let his tone and expression soften. In his experience with both of the Reid's, neither of them were the type to open up very often, so this was a surprise.

"Yeah, actually. There's something I've been trying to tell… someone, anyone, for a while, but I just can't. But I need to tell somebody or I feel like I'm going to go insane. I can't stand school anymore because this is all I think about, I can't think anymore," Sara confessed, pulling out a crumpled piece of paper from her sweater pocket.

Hotch leaned forward slightly, propping his elbows on the edge of his desk, "You're telling me first?" Sara shrugged and then nodded yes. "Interesting. You know that I was the first person Reid told about you?" He asked.

"Really," She said, looking him in the eye for the first time. Her face was relatively blank, and he couldn't read much in that alone.

"So what do you have there?" He asked, nodding to the paper in her hand. She stared at it silently for a full minute, then slowly reached over the desk and set it in front of him. Hotch looked at it for a moment without touching it, noticing what must have been thousands of tiny wrinkles from being crumpled many times. The paper was at least a few years old and had taken quite a bit of damage.

Hotch looked up at Sara for confirmation and she nodded again. He carefully unfolded it and read its contents.

_Sara,_

_Please try to understand this, because it is the last thing I can ever tell you._

_You are only going to be as good as the people you surround yourself with, be brave enough to let go of the people who weigh you down. I'm letting go of the heaviest weight for you. I was not perfect, I made mistakes, and I hurt people. I don't want this to hurt you baby, you've been hurt enough and I pray that this is the last time that happens. My life has not turned out how I wanted it to, or how I planned. But complaining about it is useless, and you have to act, or forget. This is how I do both._

_People have always walked away from me, even you. I don't blame you; I understand that I'm not the kind of mother you deserve. But people always leave me, now it's my turn._

_I'm so sorry._

_-Laura Ryan_

Hotch read the note over three times before looking up at the teenager in front of him, almost unable to believe that she'd kept this type of secret for so long, only to reveal it to him. Sara's eyes had gone slightly red, but she was otherwise unchanged. He also suddenly realized that she was as good at hiding her emotions as he was.

Maybe that was why she'd chosen him. She wasn't looking for an emotional response, like the kind she'd gotten during foster care. She wanted a confidant, at least until she revealed this to the rest of the team, her brother at the very least.

"Her suicide note," Hotch said eventually. "I was under the impression her death was accidental."

"That was the point," Sara answered, exhaling deeply. "I didn't want anyone to know. I found the note when I got home from school, after I found her body," Sara almost mimicked his usual, stoic expression. "You can't tell anyone, ok?" She said suddenly, looking him square in the eye.

"Of course I wouldn't," He assured her, glancing out his office window once more, and saw that the team was starting to head for the conference room.

Sara saw this as well, "I know you wouldn't. I trust you, Hotch."

-x-X-x-

"Remind me again why it's called the City if Angels?" Rossi asked as I entered the conference room. I knew that the storm was yet to come, I had to tell Spencer, and I knew I'd eventually tell the team, but knowing that I'd let go of at least part of my most well-kept secret was a blessing.

My mind felt clear again, and I wanted something to do with it. "It was originally called the town of our lady the queen of angels," Spencer said without a moment's hesitation. Prentiss glanced over at him from her spot at the coffee pot, and he realized his mistake. "That was a rhetorical question, wasn't it?"

I gave him the 'ok' sign to let him know he was right, and then smiled. He looked at me curiously for a moment, apparently picking up on the change in my mood. He hadn't tried to make me talk about the breakdown I'd had a week earlier, though he had been treading around me carefully.

"This is a weird one," Penelope began. "Three women from all different parts of the city found murdered over the last few weeks." The images of the now deceased women appeared onscreen.

"All were held approximately twenty-four hours before being dumped in a public space," Hotch said. He gave no indication that he'd had a massive secret unloaded on to him just minutes ago, and realized I'd picked the right person to tell first. While Hotch was probably the person on the team that I spoke to least, he was someone I knew I could always trust.

"He's not hiding what he's doing," Rossi commented.

"And here's one weird part," Penelope said, clicking the remote to bring up another image on-screen.

"They all look like floaters," Emily commented, sounding a little confused. The women were an unnatural color, looking as though they'd been drowned.

"But their bodies weren't found anywhere near water?" Spencer asked.

"They were drowned somewhere else and transported to the dumpsite," Said Hotch.

Morgan looked away from the screen, "You're right Garcia, this is weird."

"Oh, but there's more."

"They weren't drowned in water," Hotch continued.

"Methanol?" Spencer blurted out, looking at his file again to make sure.

"Each woman had it in her lungs; she was alive before she was put into it. No water, just methanol," Said Hotch.

"Drowning's a tough way to kill someone," Commented Rossi, squinting up at the monitor.

"Slow. The unsub wants his victims to suffer, and he has the space and privacy in which to do it," Hotch agreed.

Penelope sighed, "And if you have yet to reach your daily allotment of skeeve for the day before dinner, each woman had an identical removal of flesh taken from her right foot."

"Methanol and skin?" Rossi asked aloud, neither of us had drawn any conclusions from this information, but my brain was hard at work, happy to be freed up from some of my stress. "What the hell is he doing with them?"

-x-X-x-

"Alright, I checked all seven cab companies that service the Hollywood and Vermont area and none of the drivers report picking anyone up between eleven and two the night Linda went missing," Garcia told the team, live from her tech-base in Quantico, Virginia.

I was parked next to her, making up some lab work from the week prior, ready to get my schoolwork back in order after my short hiatus. "And you know that for sure?" Emily asked.

"Yeah, he seemed really certain," She answered.

"The drivers may have picked someone up off the meter," Derek suggested.

"Cabs have GPS?" Hotch asked.

"Yeah, taxis are tracked more than Lady Gaga's twitter."

"What does that mean?" Spencer asked, I could almost see the confused look on his face.

"I'll explain it to him, Garcia," Rossi assured her.

"Yeah, teach him to worship the other Lady G, boss."

I set my pen down on the desk and leaned in a little closer to the phone, "Hey, couldn't this guy be one of those unregistered cabs? One of those dudes with a yellow car and cabbie stickers I mean," I said into the phone, unable to silence the joyful high my brain was on.

"There are 2,300 registered cabs the city, and at least as many unregistered ones," A man's voice that I didn't recognize agreed with me.

"And nobody pays any attention when they get into a cab," Rossi said.

"And if he's unregistered he's not going to sit around stands like a regular driver," Said Emily.

Derek joined the conversation again, "That's going to make him even more difficult to find."

"Good work Sara," Hotch said. "We're ready to give the profile."

I leaned back in my chair, feeling satisfied, and actually a little giddy. I grinned at Garcia as she reached over to disconnect us from the call when I spotted something on one of my old lab worksheets.

"Wait!" I said loudly. "Spence, you still there?" I asked.

"Yeah, what?" He asked.

"Methanol, we've used it in my lab class to extract chemicals from other chemicals or something. But we took a sample from whatever we were using-"

"What kind of sample?" Hotch asked.

"Something from the source material to keep and label."

"Square samples, two inches by two inches. I remember that in high school too," Spencer finished for me quickly. "I think this guy's a scientist and he's experimenting."

The profile went out within the next few hours, and another body turned up in that time. Garcia was discussing 'renting me out' from Spencer when the phone rang.

"Sara, I'm on a call with Morgan and Prentiss, they think it could be smell. Ever heard of distillation extraction?" He asked hurriedly.

"Yeah, methanol can be used to create scents, draws out the oils. But it takes, like, hours. We used it to make candles…" I trailed off. "Oh, that's sick!" I exclaimed.

"I hope you two know what you're saying, because you lost me," Emily said, I could hear the sounds of inner-city in the back ground.

"Emily, let me call you right back. Sara is Garcia there?"

-x-X-x-

Doctor Reid propped his cell phone on his shoulder and opened the BAU's refrigerator in search of a snack. "Reid?" Emily answered on the other end of the line.

"Emily! You are not going to believe this," He said excitedly, settling for a water bottle and kicking the door shut.

"No?" She asked.

Spencer sat down at his desk across the aisle from his sister, who currently occupied Morgan's desk chair and was spinning in it pensively. He put the phone on speaker so Sara could join in, knowing that she never passed up on a chance to talk to Prentiss, which she hadn't had much time for since they'd all gone to Garcia's play. "They're showing Solaris tonight in the theatres, the original! Wanna go?" He asked, noticing Sara roll her eyes.

"Did Morgan put you up to this?" Emily asked suspiciously.

"No, I did," Sara answered.

"Yeah, Morgan would have no idea what Solaris is," He agreed, exchanging a look with his sister.

"So uh, you just called me out of the blue?" Emily asked slowly.

"Well I mean the original one's in Russian so really you and I are the only ones that can really enjoy it," Spencer pointed out, earning another eye-roll from his sister.

"Isn't Solaris like four hours long?" Emily asked. Sara was listening to the call carefully, looking a little confused, but not by the subject matter.

"Five. It's supposed to be the best sci-fi meditation film of all time, but for some reason they never really show it in the theatres. Wanna go with me?"

Sara went a little wide-eyed and mouthed 'You just asked her out!' Not that the young doctor noticed.

"Sorry handsome, gonna have to pass. I'm just going to hang out with Sergio tonight."

Spencer went a little red in the face at that, "Oh, sorry I didn't realize that…"

"Relax Reid, Sergio is my new cat. But um, thank you," Emily assured him. Both the Reids were now picking up on something odd in her voice, but couldn't place it.

"For what?" Spencer asked, sounding and looking confused.

"For being you."

"Aw, thanks. I don't know how to be anyone else," Spencer said, pursing his lips.

"Yeah, that's what I love about you."

"Well, ok. Sara wants to say hi real quick," Spencer said, furrowing his brow as he handed the cell phone to his sister, who shut the speaker phone off.

"Hey, Emily," Sara said. "You mind if I come over and hang out? As awesome as Solaris seems, I sort of wanted to talk to you about something," She asked, returning to Morgan's desk chair and fiddling with something in her pocket.

"Sorry sweetie, maybe some other time," Emily answered.

"Oh, no problem. Bye," Said Sara, a little dejected. She hung up and handed the phone back to her brother. "Solaris starts in an hour and a half, right?" She asked him, returning her hand to her pocket.

"Yeah, why? You want to come?" He asked happily.

A small smile crept across the girl's features, "Whatever you want. Just, could we hang out at home first? There's something I need to talk about."

_You will find that it is necessary to let things go; simply for the reason that they are heavy_


	114. Chapter 114

Episode 6x16 Coda Thank you so much for the reviews last chapter, if you have a moment please tell me what you think of this one.

* * *

Doctor Reid walked briskly down the crowded street toward Quantico FBI Headquarters, holding tightly to the newest book in his library, 'Migraine: Clinical Research of Causes, Treatment and Management'. He glanced down at his companion through the tinted lenses of the sunglasses he'd taken to wearing in an effort to dull his headaches. She hurried along beside him, making her best attempt to keep in-step with his longer strides as she bit into an apple.

Sara looked happier than he'd seen her in a long time, there was a skip in her step and the purple scarf she'd borrowed from him trailed out happily behind her, a vast improvement from the emotional wreck she'd been only a few weeks earlier. To his satisfaction, she'd even picked up her studies again, which had actually helped the team solve their previous case a few days earlier. But, the young Doctor's memory wandered back to something more recent than the last case; the evening they'd gotten home.

-x-X-x-

Spencer collapsed on to the living room sofa, giving his sister an appreciative smile when she handed him a cup of coffee. "So, the case ended well?" She asked, sipping at her own mug as she sat down in the armchair.

He grimaced, "Not well, but it ended."

Sara nodded, somewhat distracted.

"So, what did you want to talk about?" Spencer asked after a short pause.

She jerked her head away and then back to him, staring at a space just above him. "Remember… stupid question, you remember everything. A few weeks ago, you had that headache and I sort of flipped out on you," Sara began.

'Sort of flipped out' was an understatement, but Spencer didn't comment on that. "Yeah, you were really upset," He agreed.

Sara took a deep breath, "I thought you were dead."

This was a sharp blow to the Doctor, and his mouth fell open slightly. "You thought I was dead?" He asked, wondering if he'd heard her correctly.

Sara nodded and then made eye contact with him, her mouth quirked into an unwanted frown. She was doing her best not to show what she was feeling, but the look in her eyes spoke volumes. "I… um. You, well, when I got to Quantico, no one ever asked. No one asked about what happened really, you let me tell you when I was ready, and I really appreciated it, I still do. But I didn't tell you everything about Mom, and especially how she died."

Spencer felt his eyebrows knit together, and he sat up on the couch. "I read the report; it was a drug overdose, the coroner's office-"

"The coroner's office concluded what I told them, that she dosed, that it was an accident. It wasn't."

"What are you saying?" Spencer asked, but he had already come to the right conclusion.

"She…" Sara stopped and shut her eyes tightly. Spencer slid to the edge of the couch and noticed that she was shaking.

"When the paramedics arrived they asked what happened," She began again, a sharp pause forming between each word. "I told them that it was an accident. But it wasn't. She…" She stopped again. "She committed suicide." The last word was a shuddery gasp, and she pulled her knees to her chin, grasping them tightly. "I never said it out loud."

Spencer hesitated, this was completely new. "Are you ok?" He finally asked.

Sara let out a quiet, breathy laugh. "Probably the first time I won't lie when someone asks me that. No, I'm not ok."

Dr. Reid nodded, watching as his sister reached beneath her glasses to wipe her eyes which were only a little moist. "Go put on some pajamas and come back," He suggested. "Solaris can wait until another day."

A few minutes later Sara returned, now clad in an over sized school T-Shirt which proudly read 'Abagnale High School' in large red letters, as well as a pair of plaid pajama pants. She looked tired with her makeup washed off and her hair down, and her expression matched the one Spencer usually saw in the mirror after a difficult case.

He patted the space on the sofa beside him, and Sara gratefully curled up next to him, nestling comfortably against his side. It occurred to him how odd it was that he had turned into a 'hugger.' This was Morgan's word, and while never displayed at work, it was very common place at home. Morgan and a few of the other profilers had observed the behavior on certain house visits, but Spencer had never really noticed the transition. "So," He said wrapping an arm around the girl's shoulders.

"Want me to talk about it?" She asked quietly.

"If you want to," He answered, resting his chin on top of her head.

She exhaled deeply, "I just. I don't know Spence. She left me a note and I covered it up. I hate her for doing it and I try to forgive her like I tried to forgive Dad by forcing myself to do it, but I can't. She left me… and I was relieved. She was always so sick, and sleeping, or out drinking with some scumbag guy or angry and crying and I couldn't help her, and it's like it was my fault. And then I was ashamed because I was relieved and I was so… embarrassed that someone would know how terrible of a daughter that I must have been to let her do something like that. I felt like I couldn't even mourn her because she was the one that left me, so why would I wish she'd come back? And I never told anyone because they'd hate me for it, and if I didn't talk about it, it would just go away. It never goes away."

-x-X-x-

Yes, the girl beside him was a massive change from the one he remembered from only a few days ago. That evening had reached well past their usual turn-in hours as they discussed, confessed, remembered and analyzed. She'd shown him the note which she had kept, though nearly destroyed on innumerable occasions, and by the end of the night Spencer's shirt was stained with tears that did not just belong to his sister.

But she would get better, the young doctor told himself. He always got better after bad things- terrible things happened, and she would too. But it would take a long time, he knew. They both held back, maybe more than they should. Definitely more than they should.

-x-X-x-

David Rossi looked out over the bull pen, watching Ashley Seaver studying at her desk. She'd come in early again, textbooks and highlighters in hand to work on school before the day began. Doctor Reid and Sara entered though the glass doors, Sara trailing close behind her brother, his scarf draped unceremoniously on her shoulders.

He watched as Sara picked up a book and walked over to the desk across from Ashley's and sat down, pulling her attention away from the highlighted pages. "Hi, we haven't met. I'm Sara, Reid's sister," She said, reaching a hand across the divider to shake.

"Nice to meet you, I'm Ashley Seaver," She smiled back. "What do you have there?" She asked, pointing to the younger girl's book with the highlighter.

"To Kill a Mockingbird. You?"

"School," Ashley answered.

"Fun," Sara said, and Ashley laughed and nodded.

"Yeah, very," She said sarcastically.

Emily Prentiss entered the bull pen next, looking a little worn down this morning, though she made sure to say 'good morning' to the other team members, taking an extra minute to talk to Sara before going to search for coffee. Sara opened her book and Ashley returned to her studies while Spencer Reid sipped his morning coffee at his desk. Rossi smiled to himself beneath his mustache and headed for Hotch's office.

-x-X-x-

Emily was just beginning to think that he wouldn't show up when a hand appeared on her shoulder. She sat up uneasily and stopped rotating her coffee cup, wondering what the odds were that she would make it out of this conversation. "I knew you were watching me," She stated, maintaining her composure perfectly.

"What's the expression? Keep your friends close, your enemies on surveillance," Said the all too familiar voice, the Irish accent heavy. The hand stopped rubbing her back and Doyle sat down across from her.

"I've been here two hours, you should know better than to keep a lady waiting," She said dryly.

"Seems hypocritical, since I had to wait seven years," He answered, piercing her with an icy gaze.

"Hello Ian."

"Hello Lauren. Oh wait, Lauren Reynolds died in a car accident," He corrected himself cynically.

"What do you want?" Emily asked.

"You. Oh not today, don't worry about that, but soon," He said darkly, meeting her eyes with an ease that made her squirm internally.

"I've got a Glock leveled at your crotch, what's to stop me from taking you and the little ones out right now?"

"You'd never make it back to your car and you know it," He answered casually. "Tell me, does the lovely Penelope know the truth about you? Or is she too busy watching movies with Derek to care? Here you are, all alone while Aaron sits at home with his son, and didn't Dave and Ashley invite you to their game night? Maybe they thought you'd be on the Metro with Doctor Reid and his sister. Dealing with her mother's suicide must have kept both of them from noticing you. My, those two do have some quirks," Doyle grinned.

"Come near my team, and I will end you."

"I don't have a quarrel with them, how long that remains the case is entirely on you. They're innocent. You are not."

"I was doing my job!"

"I think you did a little more than that," Doyle growled. "You took the only thing that mattered to me, so I'm going to take the only thing that matters to you, your life."

Emily's eyes widened, but she didn't move.

"Perhaps I could take little Sara Reid first, then you would know exactly how it feels. Honore de Balzac once said, "Most people of action are inclined to fatalism, and most of thought believe in Providence." Tell me, Emily Prentiss, which do you think you're going to be?"

* * *

Time solves most things. And what time can't solve, you must solve yourself.


	115. Chapter 115

Episodes: Coda (mentioned), Valhalla (parts of it).

Sorry for the break, had a school project which is now over with, so this will be a writing weekend! Thank you for the lovely reviews the last two chapters, they make my day and I've wanted to get this chapter up for so long. Part two-ish of Valhalla chapter to follow shortly.

* * *

Doctor Reid sat down in his arm chair and picked up his lad of legal paper and a pen, ready to write his daily letter for his mother. He sometimes wrote to her using legal paper, the yellow was rumored to be more stimulating, and it made the ink stand out more. It was also what she had used to write out her lesson plans for her college classes.

He had written only a few lines when a small noise from the couch attracted his attention. Sara let out a yawn and turned over on the couch, sound asleep. Spencer smiled to himself, she looked as exhausted as he felt and the late night trip to the music store that evening hadn't helped. The Casio electric keyboard was the newest addition to the Reids' living room, and was stashed away in the corner at the moment.

Spencer looked over at it, thinking over the most recent case. He felt awful that they hadn't been in time to save Charlie Sparks, but at least Sammy still had one parent. Sammy… Spencer set the legal pad down and looked over his hands. Sammy had shown him how to play piano, but it was more than that, he'd connected with him. An autistic boy who had barely been able to return a hug from his own mother had reached out for his hand.

Spencer had always had difficulty connecting with people, when he'd first joined the BAU, he was certain that he and Morgan would never get along, and now they were best friends. He suspected that he himself had at least a slight form of autism; the fixation, missing social cues, and stimming- which Sara referred to as 'that hand flapping thing'- were all symptoms. No, connecting with new people was not one of his strong skills.

Yet with Sammy, the bond was there. Sammy hadn't even spoken to him, but it was there as soon as he'd sat down with him to play piano. In that instant, they had bonded. Spencer couldn't remember something like that happening to him in his entire life, even with Sara. He couldn't recall exactly when they had bonded; it had been a gradual event. But there it was, he'd connected with someone no one else had been able to.

Spencer smiled to himself again and resumed his letter writing. He wasn't quite sure what to conclude after all that thought, but at least one thing was certain. The 'Reid Effect', at least some of it, was gone.

-x-X-x-

Spinning idly in chairs and exploring hallways were two hobbies that I developed during my time at FBI headquarters. On this day in particular, the latter was not an option because I'd heard that Strauss was making rounds, so I contented myself to spinning in Emily's chair and swinging my locket back and forth on the desk lamp while the team was in a briefing.

"Stop! Just stop!"

I looked around quickly and spotted Emily and Penelope in the conference room doorway. Emily stormed away a moment later and I watched Penelope pause in apparent shock. I quickly left her desk and went over to Garcia.

"What was that about?" I asked, watching Emily leave with Rossi through the BAU doors.

"I have no idea, but she is in a foul mood my dear," She admitted, her perky attitude only slightly injured.

"I'm worried about her," I frowned. Emily's mood had been declining steadily for at least a month, and I wasn't the only one who had noticed.

Garcia nodded pensively and pushed her glasses up the bridge of her nose. "In any case, I have two mysterious family deaths to look into, feel free to join me or amuse yourself by staring at Anderson for the day."

I snorted, "I do not _stare _at Anderson, I battle with him."

-x-X-x-

An hour later I was back at the desks, this time seated across from Spencer. He was pouring over some paperwork which I had decided not to ask about, since I knew he needed to concentrate. Emily walked over to us and set her bag on the desk, visibly startling Spencer.

"I'm sorry," Emily apologized.

"I thought you were in there," Spencer explained, nodding back at the hallway.

"You ok?" She asked, rubbing her hands together.

"Yeah, yeah. I'm sure the victims overlap somehow, I pulled their phone numbers but I can't find anything," He said, sounding a little discouraged.

"You just jumped," Emily pointed out.

Spencer frowned and set down his pen. "I've just been having these really intense headaches lately," He admitted.

"Have you seen a doctor?" She asked worriedly, lines forming between her eyebrows.

"A few, none of them have been able to figure it out."

If by a few he meant four doctors, two MRI's, two CAT-scans, and consulting a geneticist. I bit the inside of my cheek, thinking of the growing number of appointments marked on the kitchen calendar. He didn't have to put the appointments on there to remember, he only did it so I could feel involved.

"Oh… I'm sorry," Emily said quietly, the lines deepening. "Does anyone know?" She asked, glancing at me.

Spencer and I exchanged a look. "You," He answered quietly.

"I won't tell anyone."

"I know," He said without hesitation, a rare look of trust crossing his face. "They just worry, not that you're not going to worry, but they'll just make me feel like a baby," Spencer admitted, laughing nervously. "You know?"

"I do," Emily agreed. I could see how much it meant to her that he had chosen to confide in her. It was a privilege allowed to few, and even I wasn't always one of them.

"How about you?" Spencer asked, looking down at the papers on his desk.

"I'm good," Emily said quickly. The way she said it made me feel nervous. It reminded me of how I sounded in the weeks before I'd told Spencer about my Mom. She wasn't ok.

"You've been picking your fingernails again," Spencer pointed out, something he must have observed awhile ago.

"Yeah," Emily shrugged, throwing her hands up.

"You only do that when you're stressed."

Emily looked down at her hands, "It's just a bad habit."

Spencer smiled lightly and looked down at the papers again. "Aha," He said to himself, squinting at something he'd discovered. "You coming?" He asked, straightening the stack and getting up from his chair.

"Yeah, I'll be there in a minute."

-x-X-x-

The next morning found me searching the FBI for Derek and Emily, who had been involved in a shootout with the unsubs sometime after I had already gone home. I skipped my morning coffee and immediately found Derek, wrapping him in a tight hug in the middle of the hallway. "What's the matter Baby Reid?" He asked, wrapping his muscular arms around my shoulders.

"Are you sure you're alright?" I asked instead. I could feel heat behind my eyes, threatening tears.

"I'm fine; you think some punks with masks can take down Derek Morgan?" He said reassuringly.

I smiled a little and let him go, "Course not, but I have to have something to worry about, right?"

"Let's go find your brother; I need to find out about a tattoo."

Spencer was working at his desk again, hunched over a bright yellow legal pad, pencil in hand, and several dozen sketches strewn about the usually neat desk. "Reid, you got anything?" Derek asked as Hotch and Emily appeared as well. I'd have to ask about her condition later, not that it was really necessary. Emily was always alright.

"The damage was pretty extensive but luckily part of the tattoo remains," He answered, scribbling away furiously.

"Seaver, get the victim's photo out to the press," Hotch ordered Ashley.

"I think I knew who dug the hole!" Penelope exclaimed. Her bright purple dress was a nice contrast to the gray and black the rest of the team wore. "The journo told me to follow the money, like straight up that's what he said, so I did. It turns out the gazette is owned by a multinational global conglomerate, all of which employ the services of one company, CWS."

"Clear Water Securities?" Hotch asked.

"You know them?" Rossi asked him.

"I've come across them, they're a counter intelligence group in Geneva."

"Turns out all of our victims worked for CWS," Penelope continued.

Emily leaned against Morgan's desk, "How long ago?"

"Seven years."

"Seaver, hang up," Hotch said.

Rossi stuck his hands into his pockets, "Do we have a problem?"

"No, CWS does," Hotch answered, crossing his arms.

Spencer pushed his chair back from the desk and looked up for the first time in several minutes. "Got it," He announced, holding up the legal pad to show us.

He'd drawn a large four leaf clover; the leaves were each formed by two curved lines which inverted, matching the edges of the tattoo that had been found on the shooter yesterday. The drawing however was not what surprised me; it was the look on Emily's face when she saw it. She walked away quickly without an excuse.

I felt a sickening feeling enter my stomach for a reason I couldn't understand.

* * *

Everything in life is temporary


	116. Chapter 116

Episode: Valhalla. I'd really appreciate feedback on this chapter, thanks :)

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Emily sat in the passenger seat of the black SUV, checking the mirror every few minutes. "No one's getting back to you?" Derek asked, watching her put her cell phone back into her pocket.

"I only have a couple of contacts, but they'll get back to me," She assured him, looking out the window again.

"What, are we being followed 007?" Derek joked.

"No, but you should go through the city," She covered. "Sixty-six is going to be miserable right now."

Derek shrugged, "We'll get there."

"Before Doyle takes somebody else out?" Emily snapped. "He's shooting up federal agents, what's he going to do next?" She asked, Doyle's threats weighing heavily in the back of her mind.

"Well what would you like me to do?"

"Get creative with your driving!"

"I'm working on it Prentiss!" Said Derek as Emily's phone went off.

"Hey, thanks for getting back. I need some intell on Ian Doyle," Emily picked up.

"Are you alone?" Tsia asked.

"Not at all, I need anything you can spare."

"Is your team in danger?"Asked Clyde.

"Absolutely. You should start with our victims, Ron Castenzo, Carrie Fagan and Byrne Delaney. See if they connect to Doyle in any way."

"I'll send you a document," Tsia answered.

"I'll be waiting for it, thanks." Prentiss hung up and sighed.

Derek turned to look at his partner again, "They got anything?"

"I don't know. We'll see."

Morgan watched her for another moment and shook his head, "You know Prentiss, you really need to trust people."

Emily glanced at him out of the corner of her eye, "I trust people."

"No you don't. You don't because you can't. And I get it; you tried to count on someone who let you down, so you go it alone. You'll never admit that because you're just too damn stubborn. It's alright, it doesn't matter. I'll tell you what does matter, that you can trust me, Emily, with anything. I'm serious, no matter how awful you think it is I promise you, you won't be alone. I just wish you'd believe that."

Emily sat in silence for a moment, staring out the window while she absorbed what Morgan had said. "I do," She answered. "Profile me again you'll wish you hadn't."

The two smirked at each other and Morgan laughed. Emily swallowed nervously, satisfied that Morgan believed she was ok.

-x-X-x-

"It'll be pretty awkward on the bus, but the trip might be fun," I told Spencer, trailing him down the hall. I had just arrived from school and was discussing a trip the seniors (and whatever I was considered) would be taking.

"It's a nice museum, if you don't go with the class I'll take you," Spencer offered. Just then he bumped into Emily, who was leaving the copy room. "Sorry," He apologized, stepping back from her. "What's that?" He asked, nodding to the paper in her hand.

"Oh, this is the only lead I have so far, what about you? Seaver said you were looking for photos of Doyle's Tucson villa?" Emily asked.

"I couldn't find any stills from the day he was arrested, but there might be some surveillance footage from the vans, they usually record everything," Spencer answered, turning to continue down the hall.

"Oh yeah?" She asked quietly, and Spence smiled back at her hopefully. I watched Emily's face fall.

"Hey, are you alright?" I asked, reaching out to touch her arm.

"What? Yeah," She answered quickly. "Fine."

My eyebrows knitted together as I looked her over, "I know you're probably sick of hearing this, but you've been… off lately."

"Look, I'm sorry but I've got to get this to Hotch. We'll talk later, alright?" She evaded, holding the paper up in front of my face.

I sighed impatiently but nodded, "No problem."

-x-X-x-

Emily flipped her cell phone shut after talking to Tsia and Clyde again. She couldn't trust Clyde right now and Tsia knew it, so she'd sent her to 9th street in hopes of keeping her friend out of harm's way. She blew out a long breath, trying to calm herself down, but the crowded bull-pen made it difficult to think.

She rubbed her temples feeling a headache coming on, and looked around her desk. She checked the drawer again to ensure that her files were still safely inside, and tried to calm herself with the fact that the team knew nothing of her involvement with Doyle. If she kept her head down until this was under control, they would be safe. Taking down an entire team federal agents would mean nothing to him, and worse, harming an innocent bystander would mean even less, especially if it would hurt her in the process.

Emily looked up and noticed a silver locket hanging from her desk lamp and picked it up. She recognized it as Sara's and remembered she had left it there a few days earlier. She opened the locket and found it empty. She grimaced, remembering what Doyle had said about the girl, and wondering how she hadn't realized it sooner. She felt guilty, knowing that Sara had tried to talk to her about it several times, but assured herself that keeping her at a distance would keep her safe.

Unable to stay where she was any longer, Emily slipped the necklace into the small compartment on her gun holster, deciding to hold on to it for good luck. She was going to need it.

-x-X-x-

Agents, profilers, police officers, captains and every other form of law enforcement representative one could think of was packed into the bull-pen. The collective force made up a solid wall of black and navy-blue uniforms, packing the room so tightly that I could barely squeeze into a spot by the door.

"It's not often that we know a subject's name, and in this case knowing Ian Doyle's identity doesn't give us very much. He's known to a select few, and those who know him well either work beside him, or they're on his list. Two or three of his victims work for CWS, and were responsible for his transport to North Korea. There were seven operatives on the mission all together, and the remaining five have been warned. All the federal and international agents responsible for tracking him down are now on his list of targets."

Hotch addressed that group of agents congregated around him, the stern voice I had once found intimidating sounded barely stressed, something only the team and I could probably pick up on. I could only recognize a few of the people in the room. Hotch and Rossi stood tall at the front of the room, Spencer was stationed at his desk, the blonde head of Seaver was to the right of me, and Garcia's bright purple dress could be spotted easily in the middle of the room. I could pick out Anderson and Gina against the wall, and I was surprised to see that Emily and Derek had returned as well.

"We'll find Doyle that way we find any other offender, by studying his behavior. We'll dissect his every move since he regained his freedom. When he escaped Korea, he killed a man and he used his vehicle to cross the border. From there he crossed into Europe, meeting up with former colleagues until he worked his way into the U.S." I saw Emily turn and quietly exit the room. When I realized that no one else had noticed, I slipped out behind her and followed her into the hall.

"Emily!" I called after her; she was headed for the elevator. She turned quickly and looked startled. I was shocked to see that her eyes were glazed over, like someone holding back tears. "Where are you going?" I asked nervously.

She looked over my shoulder into the bull-pen area, and satisfied that no one else had followed her, answered, "I'm following a lead, getting a head start."

"What's going on with you?" I demanded, moving to block her way to the elevator.

Emily blinked a few times and looked me in the eyes, "Listen, everything's-"

"Don't say everything's fine when it's not, I know what that means," I cut her off.

She reached out and took me by the shoulders, "I know I keep shutting you out when you want to talk. Are you ok?"

My eyes widened in surprise, the agent who had been as close to tears as I'd ever seen her not moments earlier was asking me if I was ok. "What?" I asked, glad that at the very least I was stalling her from whatever she was about to do.

She looked me in the eyes; the light in her brown eyes was gone. "You remind me… so much of what I used to be when I was younger. Just full of joy and hope despite what's happening around you. So I need you to know that even if we never get to talk again, I love you."

In that instant, I felt water rising in my chest, like I was drowning myself from the inside. Emily pulled me into a tight embrace, looked at me one last time, and stepped into the elevator. All I could do was watch the metal doors slide shut, so I was left alone with nothing but my reflection staring back at me, and wondering why I let her go.

* * *

It hurt because it mattered~


	117. Chapter 117

_ 6x18 Lauren_

* * *

"He couldn't give me Emily's full CIA history, but he could give me this," Said JJ. The familiar sight of her at the monitor should have been comforting, but given the face on the screen behind her, nothing was comforting at the moment.

"She assumed the identity of Lauren Reynolds as part of a special task force, JTF-12."

"I heard about them, they were profiling terrorists, weren't they?" Rossi asked quietly.

"Yeah, after 9/11 the CIA and other agencies contributed their best and brightest."

Ashley pulled the pen she'd been biting away from her mouth, "But serial killers and terrorists have different personality traits."

"How does Doyle fit in?" Spencer asked, giving me a sideways glance. I could tell that he was wondering if and when I was going to jump in. I didn't plan on doing so just yet; it had gotten me sent home to bed yesterday after interrupting their meeting because Emily had left.

"He was their last case," JJ answered. "Now JTF is on his hit list. Jeremy Wolf was victim number one. Sean McAllister at Interpol was the second; he was the one that brought JTF in to work on the Doyle case. He was murdered last week in Brussels with his wife and daughter. Tsia Mosley got engaged to Jeremy earlier this year; after he died she fled to D.C. And the team leader, Clyde Easter, British SIS. He hasn't checked in since Tsia's murder. He was also in D.C."

"Did JTF make the arrests?" Hotch asked. I hadn't seen him sit down in several hours, and he didn't seem to have any intention of doing so.

"No, the host countries handled it, team moves on to the next case."

"Then how does he know about Emily… and the rest of her team?" I asked from my corner.

JJ looked over at me, and for the first time I noticed that her eyes were dewy. "Considering the shadowy nature of terrorist cells, they utilize a skill we don't- infiltration."

"Who was undercover on Doyle?" Spencer asked.

JJ sighed, "Emily. She made contact with him in Boston to get intell on Valhalla. She was posing as another weapons dealer."

A small pile of black and white surveillance photos were now circulating the table, and I glanced over Morgan's shoulder to see them. "Look at how she's dressed. She seems awfully comfortable," He commented gravely, frowning down at the pictures.

"How close did she get to Doyle as part of her cover?" Hotch asked from his place at the end of the table. He was still standing, which bothered me a lot for some reason. He had to look like he was still in control, both of the situation and of his emotions, so he stood.

"The recon they did on Doyle included a background of all his romantic relationships. Emily was his type," JJ said, disgust filtering through her carefully constructed professional voice. I exhaled angrily and noted the similar reactions from the rest of the team.

"Rossi, you and Morgan canvas Prentiss' apartment, see if anything's out of place. Something that might give us a clue to where she's going or where Doyle is," Hotch said, seemingly un-phased by the new information.

"Let me go too, please, sir." I spoke up quickly.

"No, Sara. I know you want to help but the best way to do that is to stay out of the way until we find Prentiss," Hotch answered, nodding for the rest of the team to start packing up. "Go home."

"Hotch, I can help. I know her apartment best, I'll know if something's out of place. Please don't send me home this time, not again." I pleaded, standing up and doing my best to match his posture. Something of recognition flashed across Hotch's face at the words 'don't send me home this time, not again.' He gave me a scrutinizing look and turned to Spencer.

"Reid?" He asked.

Spencer gave me a resigned look and nodded, "Stay out of the way, do whatever Rossi and Morgan tell you. Morgan, watch her for me," My brother answered, looking at each of us in turn.

"Let's go kid," Morgan said, patting me on the shoulder.

-x-X-x-

"Does Emily have a safe or a lock box of some kind anywhere?" Rossi asked me as we entered Emily's apartment. I'd been able to save Morgan the effort of kicking the door down since I'd brought my spare key with me, something I'd earned the privilege of having only three months earlier. We could have just as easily asked one of the building staff to open the door, but I had a feeling that Morgan had been planning on kicking the door down either way.

"In her bedroom, bottom of her bookshelf," I answered, slowly making my way to the end of the hall. "Rossi, she's got stuff balanced on the window ledge, she definitely knew they were coming," I said quietly, picking up a perfume bottle from the window sill.

"She asked to stop here yesterday?" Rossi asked, turning to Morgan. The two stepped into Emily's room while I continued through the rest of the apartment.

"Yeah, changed her boots and get whatever she needed I guess."

"It's never easy you know, having to dig through a friend's life," Rossi said, his voice raised enough so I could hear too. I grimaced, remembering when I'd cleaned out my Mom's room before CPS had taken me away.

"_This is different, Emily's not dead," _I reminded myself angrily.

"But that's not what's bugging you, is it?" Rossi asked, more quietly now. "You're angry, because she crossed the line with Doyle."

"No I'm not. I'm angry because a group of mercenaries just shot at me. Don't much like being shot at, Rossi," Derek denied, standing in the center of the room without looking around. "Prentiss knew exactly what was going on and she didn't bother to tell any of us!"

"She couldn't without putting us at risk," Rossi answered defensively.

"C'mon man, you don't know that. All we do know it that she slept with a terrorist for a profile, and instead of coming clean with us about her dirty laundry she just ran with it!"

I bit the inside of my cheek, hard. "Don't talk about her like that!" I snapped, returning to the doorway. "She's our family, she wouldn't just leave us! It's not that simple Morgan!"

"I'll believe it's exactly that simple until I find a reason not to," Derek answered, glaring back at me.

"Here's one," Rossi piped up, seemingly unaffected by Derek's temper. "That's her passport," He said, tossing it at Morgan. "The real one. Now if you wanted to vanish, wouldn't you take that with you?"

I rolled my eyes and turned my attention to another room, choosing the bathroom to look through. "Told you!" I said.

"This doesn't mean anything," Morgan answered indignantly.

"It means she's coming back, she's going to take care of it," I insisted, when something caught my eye.

"I worked with that woman for five years; I put my life in her hands. I called her my friend, but right now I can't say I really knew her. Can you?" He demanded loudly.

I ignored him and motioned Rossi over to the toilet, pointing to something gold at the bottom. "There's something down there," He said.

"For an ex-spy, she's lousy at flushing secrets."

-x-X-x-

"It's called a gimmel ring, the husband and wife to be wear individual bands during the engagement. Then, at the wedding," Rossi explained to Hotch, clasping the rings together so they formed a single wedding band.

"You see the markings in the middle? Gaelic. Doyle gave it to her," Said Morgan, pointing to the inside edge of the ring.

Rossi weighted the jewelry in his hand thoughtfully, "This is more than a souvenir; otherwise why hang onto it all these years? Why hide it from us?"

"So what makes you think she went to Boston?" Hotch asked. He was still standing, this time behind his desk.

"The Doyle case started in Boston, maybe she's going back to old locations, trying to hunt him down?" Morgan suggested.

"If he had us in his crosshairs she wouldn't run, she'd take the fight to him."

-x-X-x-

"Give me something to do! Anything! I'll do anything you want, just let me help," I begged, following Garcia around her lair as she hurriedly collected flash drives and routers. "I'll clean your office; I'll do a background check on your land lady! Please, Penny."

"Ok, ok, give it a rest, Sara!" Penelope said, shoving some files into her bag. She frowned and gave me a pitying look, "Alright, there's a list on my desk right there; Hotch wants me to call all of Emily's old numbers. You stay here and you call them. I'll be calling them too from the jet to make sure we don't miss any of them. When you're done, tell Anderson and then go home… If something happens he'll come get you, ok?"

I grabbed the list from the table and scanned it over; it was a very long list. "I can do that! I can do that," I promised, pulling up a chair and picking up the phone.

Penelope stopped and looked at me for a moment, "We'll be back as soon as we can."

I watched her exit the room before turning my attention back to the list. "Alright Emily, where are you hiding?" I asked aloud, punching in the first number and listening to it ring.

_The number you are trying to reach has been disconnected._

"Fine, next one," I said, carefully dialing the next number.

_The number you are trying to reach has been disconnected. If you'd like to try again-_

I hung up and dialed again, mumbling angrily.

_The number you are trying to reach has been disconnected._

_The number you are trying to reach has been disconnected._

_The number you are trying to reach has been disconnected._

"Where are you?" I yelled into the phone. I'd been calling and redialing numbers for the past hour, calling each number twice to make sure I was reaching the right one. "Please, Emily," I pleaded, scrubbing at my face furiously with the back of my hand. "Let me find you."

_Hi, you've reached Emily Prentiss, uh, leave a message. Bye._

My heart skipped a beat at the sound of her voice. "Emily! It's Sara. Penelope has me calling all of your numbers, where are you? Please pick up; please tell me you're in Boston. The team's on their way, they don't need you to protect them. I'm safe too, I promise. Please just come home and we can help you catch Doyle. You're not all alone out there, wherever you are. I know what it's like to be carrying a secret around for so long, it hurts. But you're not alone, and you are going to come back."

I hung up and buried my face in my hands. I had to keep calling.

-x-X-x-

"Sara? Sara, wake up," An unfamiliar voice was saying, and someone was shaking me gently by the shoulder. I opened my eyes, met with the cloudy outline of a man in a suit.

"Sorry, who are you?" I asked, sitting up and realizing with embarrassment that I had fallen asleep. Dually noted, the sheet of phone numbers was stuck to my face. I removed it quickly and tried to locate my glasses.

"Anderson. Here are your glasses," He answered, holding them out to me.

I felt my stomach flip, "What's happened? Did they find her?" I asked, slipping the frames over my ears.

Anderson frowned, "Agent Prentiss has been injured. I've been ordered to take you to Boston immediately."

I swallowed the bile rising in my throat and nodded, "How are we getting there?"

"Jet. We have to go now," He said, opening the door to the lair.

Anderson and I drove to the airstrip in one of the SUVs and were escorted to our ride to Boston. I settled into my seat and waited for takeoff, trying to stop myself from thinking about worst case scenarios. My companion sat down across from me and straightened his suit. I noticed a small coffee stain on the sleeve. He sniffed loudly and cleared his throat, watching me expectantly.

"We should be departing soon," Anderson said suddenly, breaking the awkward silence.

"Great," I nodded, tucking my feet beneath me and sinking back into the seat.

Anderson adjusted his suit jacket again, "Are you alright?" He asked.

"Fine," I replied, glancing out the window at the dark runway, harsh yellow light illuminating certain areas. "Thanks."

"So… it's nice to meet you," He said after a few minutes.

"Yeah, you too," I said, turning back to him. "You know, I totally won that last staring contest."

He smirked and shook his head, "I'd argue with you, but I've known your brother long enough to know I won't get anywhere."

I rolled my eyes, "We're not _that _alike. I'm much more stubborn than him. So, you got a first name?"

"It's Agent," He joked.

"Fine, but you have to call me Reid."

"Alright Reid," Anderson agreed.

The jet started to roll down the runway, the yellow lights outside blurred together and slowly faded into the distance as we climbed upwards. "Who told you to bring me here?" I asked eventually, noticing that Anderson had given up on fixing his jacket and had deposited it in the seat next to him.

"Agent Jareau."

"Seriously?" I asked, surprised.

"She said to get you to Boston, just following orders," Anderson shrugged.

"So you commissioned one of the private jets to take me?"

He tilted his head to the side, "I'm not just a pretty face," he answered sarcastically.

I laughed and leaned back in my chair, looking back out the window at the dark sky surrounding us. Of course JJ was behind this, Pentagon connections could get things done. Classified files, intelligence from Interpol and jet rides were great, but I had to wonder if the political powerhouse that was JJ would be enough to protect Emily.

* * *

What it lies in our power to do, it lies in our power not to do.


	118. Chapter 118

6x18 Lauren.

* * *

Anderson rushed me to the hospital as soon as we landed in the Boston airport, leaving me with assurances that no matter what happened, everything would be alright. A nurse escorted me upstairs to a visitors lounge down the hall from Emily's operating room. The waiting room was a dull, dark blue color which most of the team's attire blended into, and I felt out of place in my bright red hoodie.

There was little greeting for me when I walked in. A hug from Spencer and Garcia, and a hand squeeze from Rossi was all I received. No one spoke, each agent wrapped up in their own thoughts. Ashley had her legs drawn up to her chest and was fixated on a spot on the rug. Spencer was pacing with a coffee cup. It wasn't hot anymore and the coffee remained untouched. Morgan and Penelope sat side by side, looking around the room aimlessly. Rossi had taken up a vigil at Ashley's shoulder. For the first time today Hotch was seated, his elbows resting on his knees, hands clasped together. He looked defeated somehow, and I almost wished he'd stand up again.

I sat down beside Ashley, one space between us. That space was soon taken by Rossi, and eventually Spencer too sat down beside Garcia and Morgan. Hotch stayed separate from us, alone in his corner. Occasionally one of us would sigh, but other than that the room stayed silent.

_ She'll be fine. She's always fine. All of them. They're always fine._

_It's just a long surgery, but she'll recover._

_Maybe she'll have to take some time off? _

_Of course she will!_

_I can stay at her place and take care of her, or she can come stay with me and Spencer._

_I wouldn't mind living on the couch for a few weeks, she can have my room._

_It will be like Spencer's last birthday! It will be great. _

_We'll watch movies, I can cook for her, and she can help me study for finals._

_Then when she's better she can go back to work and catch Doyle and everything will be fine like Anderson said._

_She's fine; I bet they're finishing surgery right now. Everything will be back to normal by next Wednesday. _

Footsteps from down the hall drew me from my reverie. Everyone sat up from their hunched over positions, watching JJ with pleading eyes. Her eyes were red and puffy; the trails of fresh tears still lingered on her face.

"No," Penelope begged, almost inaudible.

"She never made it off the table."

It was like someone had kicked me in the head. I couldn't comprehend it, how could Emily be gone? Her smile, her laugh, the light in her brown eyes; they were gone. She'd never smile again, she'd never laugh again, and her eyes would now be dull and lifeless as the rest of her. She couldn't be dead. It couldn't be true.

Garcia had dissolved into quiet tears beside Morgan, but no one moved to comfort her. They were still, frozen by their shock and grief. Everyone except Spencer. He pushed himself up from his chair and hurried to the door, head down, not even a glance at me.

"Spence," JJ said quietly, catching him by the arm as he tried to leave the room.

"I didn't get a chance to say goodbye," He said. He sounded broken. JJ pulled him to her, hugging him tightly around the shoulders, he was trembling violently.

Rossi was shaking his head vigorously, a few tears spilling on to his face. Ashley stared down at the floor intensely as Garcia's crying grew louder. I turned to Hotch, silently begging him to tell me it wasn't true. I wanted him to fix it, someone had to. He looked away and walked out of the room through another door, shoving his hands into his pockets.

I felt empty.

"No," I said loudly, pushing myself up from my chair and brushing past JJ and Spencer. No one stopped me and no one followed. She couldn't be dead; I would find her and show them she was alive. She was here, somewhere.

I bolted down the corridor, rushing past doorways until I found what I was looking for. The large green doors marked 'operating room' were shut. I pushed them open and stopped, horrified by the sight in front of me. The operating table was empty, a small pool of blood on the ground beside it. A metal cart of operating equipment was pushed off to the side, the ground around it scattered with bloodied bandaging and gloves. Two nurses were cleaning up the room and had not noticed me, bright red splotches covering their uniforms.

"Where is she?" I demanded, their heads shot up in surprise.

"I'm sorry miss, you can't be in here," One of them said, dropping a pile of bandages into a medical waste bin.

"Where is Agent Prentiss?" I demanded again, unable to tear myself away from the bloody mess.

"I'm sorry; Agent Prentiss' body has already been removed," The female nurse apologized, exchanging a nervous glance with her coworker.

"Removed to where?" I asked, my voice was weakening.

Another nervous glance. "To the morgue."

I felt my strength leaving me and I backed out of the room, stumbling blindly down the hall. I was hyperventilating and I felt like I could collapse at any moment, but I kept moving, willing myself not to stop. After a few random turns and pushing on various doors I found a stairwell to hide myself away in. Tears covered the inside of my glasses' lenses and I took them off to clean them.

I began down the steps, trying to calm down. Suddenly, the step which should have been under my foot wasn't there. My left foot met empty air and I lurched forward, my glasses flying out of my hand. I fell forward without warning; a small scream escaped me as my shoulder slammed against the stairs, followed by the side of my head. I came to a stop on the bottom landing and I could feel something wet on the side of my head. I couldn't get up and I shut my eyes, pulling my knees up to chin. The cold metal floor stung against my skin and I began to shake, a small collection of tears accumulating on the ground beneath me.

"Sara?" The echo of footsteps rang through the stairwell, followed by Hotch's voice. "What happened?" He asked, hurrying down to the landing I was lying on.

"Fell," I answered in a whisper.

"Can you get up?" He asked quietly, crouching down beside me.

I shivered again and slowly sat up, leaning against Hotch for support. "He killed her, Hotch. Doyle killed her."

Hotch pushed some of my hair to the side, examining the scratch on my head. "This will need stitches," He murmured, pulling me up from the floor. "Let's get you upstairs to your brother," Hotch told me, half leading, half pulling me up the stairs.

"I can't lose anyone else Hotch," I said, holding tightly to his suit jacket for fear of tumbling backwards.

"I know, I'm sorry," Hotch nodded.

"Not your fault," I told him as we reached the top of the stairs.

Hotch paused and looked down at me regretfully, "Let's just… go find your brother."

* * *

People will believe a big lie sooner than a little one, and if you repeat it frequently enough, people will sooner or later believe it.


	119. Chapter 119

"Wait here, I'll be right back," Hotch ordered me, leaning me against a wall just outside of the stairwell before dashing down the hallway. The light-headedness was getting worse, and I slowly slid down to the floor. A small red drop landed on the floor beside me, and I reached up to feel the side of my head. When I looked at my hand it was covered in blood.

I heard a tired sigh above me and looked up. Spencer was looking down at me, I couldn't make out his expression because my glasses were somewhere at the bottom of the stairwell. "Sara what were you thinking?" He asked, crouching down in front of me. His eyes were red and moist, fixated on the bloody gash in my head.

"I was… I don't know," I mumbled. Saying that I was looking for Emily would make him think I hit my head much harder than I really had.

A nurse pushing a blue wheelchair arrived next, "Sara? I'm Jen; I'm going to take you downstairs to get looked over, alright?" She said. I nodded and she helped me into the chair.

"Where's Hotch?" I asked Spencer as I was wheeled down the hall.

"I don't know, he came to get me and a nurse, I don't know where he went," Spencer said, walking quickly to keep up with my chair.

"He shouldn't be alone, someone should go find him!" I tried to convince my brother.

"Hotch is fine, I'm staying with you," Spencer told me firmly.

"No, he's not. He shouldn't be alone," I said quietly.

-x-X-x-

Waking up in hospital beds is something I will never get used to, and certainly something I will never enjoy. I was awoken by the sound of rain pounding against the hospital room window; the only thing I could make out was the faint outline of tiled ceiling.

Instinctively I reached for my glasses, but they were nowhere to be found. The bandages on my head itched, but even touching them lightly hurt. I swung my legs over the edge of the bed and looked around, satisfied to find myself alone in the room. The hospital staff had insisted I stay overnight, most likely to avoid a lawsuit since I'd been injured on their property. Of course, suing the hospital was the last thing I would do, it was my own fault I'd fallen.

_This is where Emily died. _

The thought drifted into my mind and I shuddered, looking around the dark blurry room. I pushed myself off of the bed, the cool feeling of linoleum floor meeting my bare feet. I looked around for a pair of shoes in vain, but I couldn't see anything without my glasses, especially in the dark.

_Her body is in this building._

"Shut up!" I snapped out loud, immediately hoping that no one had heard me. I swallowed hard, refusing to cry right now. Deciding that the hospital issued pajamas were acceptable enough, I opened the door and stepped out into the dimly lit hallway. The only brightly lit area was the nurses' station down the hall, but I couldn't see anyone there.

I began to wander down the hall, aimlessly looking into the darkened rooms. I could only make out the silhouettes of people sleeping beneath the white hospital sheets. Someone was snoring further down the hall, but I had no desire to investigate. Wondering how long it would take before the hospital staff found me and sent me back to my room, I boarded the elevator and punched the button for level four, the floor above me.

The freezing metal floor stung the bottoms of my feet and I stared at the blurry image of myself in the elevator door. I thought about the team back in their hotel, and wondered if they were alone. I hoped not.

From experience I knew that Hotch was a private mourner, but I had to wonder if he had called Jack. Probably not yet, I'd arrived at the hospital sometime after 10 pm, and by now it must have been 3 am at least. Rossi had most likely comforted himself with a drink at the bar, silently toasting to Emily with each drink. I didn't know Seaver well enough to make a very accurate guess, but hopefully she was able to sleep. I wondered if JJ had called Will, and if she had woken up Henry so she could hear him on the phone. My heart ached at the thought of Spencer.

"I didn't get a chance to say goodbye," He'd said. None of us did, not really, I thought selfishly.

Derek had been the last person to see her; she had nearly died in his arms. I couldn't stand to think of him alone in his room, the thought that he could have saved her plaguing his thoughts. I knew the feeling well, and didn't wish it on anyone, especially my family.

The elevator doors slid open and I stepped into a hallway almost identical to the one I had just come from, with one exception. There was a nurse at the end of the hallway.

"Shoot," I whispered, and without hesitation I slipped into the closest room, hiding myself just inside the doorway. I immediately realized that the room I had chosen was occupied, based on the hissing sound behind me. I recognized the sound as some kind of respirator and turned around slowly, hoping that whoever was wearing it hadn't woken up.

The pale light from the window allowed me to determine that the person was a woman. I realized that I was on the same floor as the ICU, and wondered for a moment what had happened to her. She was hooked up to an IV, but I couldn't make out much else. I stole a glance out the door, and not seeing the nurse, I dashed across the hall to the elevator, frantically punching the call button.

"Get well soon," I whispered in the direction of the room I had hidden in as the elevator door slid open. "Bye!" I added, the doors sealing me inside. I let out a sigh of relief, wondering what my chances of getting back to my room undetected would be. Hopefully the nurses wouldn't be back to their station yet.

The elevator door opened on my floor, and glancing up and down the hall, I jogged back to my room as quickly as possible with the soreness in my limbs. Having safely reached my room, I shut the door behind me and made my way back to the bed, collapsing on it heavily. I instantly regretted that, a sharp pain shot through my head. The thrill of my brief nighttime adventure wearing off, I tucked myself back into bed and listened to the rain still pouring down on Boston.

-x-X-x-

_Two years earlier_

"Mom, I'm leaving," I shouted through the house, setting my breakfast plate in the sink for later. Receiving no response, I sighed and went to find her, passing by the counter of various alcohol bottles without much thought. "Mom, where are you?" I called again, a little annoyed that she wasn't answering.

I walked into my mother's room, noting the full bottle of prescriptions on the bedside table. Mom was curled up in bed, pillow wrapped in her arms, her unwashed blonde hair scattered on the mattress. "Mommy's not feeling well today baby, I'm going to sleep today," She answered quietly.

I frowned and looked at the bottle on the table beside her. This one was full of sleeping pills, and I questioned briefly whether or not to hide them today. I decided against it, knowing full well that if she couldn't knock herself out with medication for a few hours, she'd probably drink herself to sleep instead.

"Great, I'm leaving now," I answered flatly, no expectation of her getting up to say goodbye present in my thoughts. The last time I'd received a 'have a good day at school' or a morning hug had been seventeen days ago, not that it really mattered.

"Love you baby," She said, not even turning over to look at me.

"Ok, bye," I answered, more irritated with her than usual. "See you later."

My only reply was a small sniff.

There was a cool breeze as I walked home from school, holding tightly to the paper in my hand. The top of the paper was marked '102' in bright red ink, and I smiled down at it proudly. The front door was locked when I arrived home, and I pulled my key out of my pocket to let myself in.

I set my backpack down next to the door, greeted by silence. Not even the TV was on today. "Mom, I'm home!"I called. No answer. "Mom?" I called again, knowing that she probably still asleep.

I walked down the hall into her bedroom, paper in hand. She was right where I'd left her, blinds closed, her lying on the bed facing away from me. "Mom, wake up, I want to show you my paper," I said, shaking her gently by the shoulder. She didn't move.

"Mom, you ok?" I asked, putting a hand on her arm. It was cold. "Mom? Mom, wake up!" I said desperately. I rolled her onto her back, finding her eyes closed. There was a pill bottle for pain medication beneath her. I looked over at her bedside table and in a panic realized that the once full sleeping medication bottle was also empty.

I leapt up from the bed and froze where I stood, staring down at her. "Mom, please, you have to wake up. Please don't do this, please don't leave me," I pleaded with her.

The next few minutes were a blur. After standing in my frozen state for much longer than I wanted, I called 911, pleading with the operator to somehow save my mother. I remembered dropping the phone part way through the call and collapsing to the floor beside the bed, landing on a folded piece of paper that I hadn't noticed.

I'd read the note 43 times before the paramedics arrived.

After a short attempt to resuscitate her, she was loaded on to the ambulance. One of the paramedics asked me what had happened, and I numbly answered that she hadn't felt well this morning, that she must have taken too much of her medicine by mistake. She got really bad headaches.

It was my fault.

-x-X-x-

I woke with a start, gasping for air, hot tears streaming angrily down my face. The room was in complete darkness, and I clutched the hospital bed sheets for dear life. I thought of Emily, my friend, my confidant, an almost second mother. She was a second mother. She was my second chance to be a good daughter. And now she was dead. Doyle stole her from me.

I don't remember when I started sobbing, and I don't know how long it lasted, but I didn't stop crying until I fell back into a fitful sleep.

-x-X-x-

A small noise woke Emily from her light sleep, the constant hiss of her air pump no longer the only sound in the room. She could barely make out the small form of someone inside her doorway, peering out into the hallway. She stayed still, wondering why someone was hiding in her room. She stayed still though, content to observe.

A moment later the figure dashed out into the hall, whispering "Get well soon, bye!" to her as she left. Emily heard the elevator open and shut, the visitor now gone. She shut her eyes again, the dull pain in her abdomen still present through the tequila of narcotics being pumped into her. A few tears escaped her eyes as she thought of her team, all of them believed her now to be dead.

They would be safe this way, she knew. But that didn't help how much she hurt because of it, her heart aching for her friends. Until Doyle was caught, she'd never be able to see them again. In dying, she'd taken the team and herself out of the spotlight. They were no longer in danger. But it was still killing her, knowing what they must be going through now. And it was killing her because she wasn't dead, but she might as well be. Everything she had was gone now, Doyle had stolen it.

She would be transported out of the country as soon as the team was out of Boston. Tonight would be her last night on U.S. soil for a long time, maybe months, and maybe years. Knowing that her family was somewhere in the city brought fresh tears to her eyes. They were at least a mile away somewhere, and this was the closest she could be to any of them for a long time.


	120. Chapter 120

Happy summer to everyone! It's been awhile, many apologies, but finals and a new job got in the way. Hope you're all doing well.

* * *

My glasses were badly broken from their tumble down the stairwell at the Boston hospital, and it would take a few days for a new pair of lenses to arrive, so I went home without the ability to see well. It was almost comforting, not being able to see clearly. It was easier to pretend that everyone's face wasn't sad. However, I knew that although I could see less of them, they could see more of me. I didn't have a window to hide behind anymore.

Emily was to be buried on Wednesday in a cemetery just outside Quantico.

I awoke in the darkness of my room the first morning back from Boston, the beginning of the sunrise peeking through my blinds. I reached for my glasses instinctively, as I had been doing for the past two days. The weight was back on my chest almost the instant I opened my eyes; it made it difficult to breathe, but I was used to it. The familiar ache of loss was almost comforting, in the sickening way that grief is. I exhaled deeply and pushed myself out of bed, knowing I would never get back to sleep.

I left my room and stepped out into the hall, closing the door behind me with a soft click. I turned towards the kitchen and hesitated, listening for sound in the apartment. Hearing none, I took the short walk to the kitchen. Even without my glasses, it took less than a moment to notice something was out of place in the room; Spencer was asleep at the kitchen table.

"Spence," I said quietly, hoping not to startle him. That didn't work, he jerked awake violently, swinging an arm out and narrowly missing me. "Sorry. You alright?" I asked, noting the dark circles under his eyes.

He sniffed loudly and brushed the hair out of his face, "Yeah, uh, morning. You sleep ok?" He asked.

"Well enough," I shrugged. "Want some coffee?" I asked, not waiting for an answer to start. "Do you want something for breakfast?" I asked after the coffee had started to brew.

"No, I'm fine with coffee," Spencer shook his head. He got up from the chair slowly and stretched out his back.

"You've gotta eat something," I insisted, stepping over to the fridge to look for something to make. I hadn't gone to the store since before this ordeal had begun, there wasn't much food in the house.

"Sara I'm fine," Spencer insisted. "Tell me when the coffee's done."

I pushed the refrigerator door shut and began searching the cabinets, "Tell me what you want for breakfast! Sit down and I'll make something," I told him, angrily pushing past a few soup cans.

"I told you I-"

"Sit down!" I yelled, slamming the cabinet door shut loudly. Spencer jumped in surprise, grabbing the door frame frantically. I shut my eyes and sighed. "Sorry, I'm sorry Spence. I don't know what that was, just please sit down," I said quietly, hiding my face by looking into the refrigerator again.

I felt Spencer's eyes on me and tried to ignore it, my level of embarrassment increasing exponentially. "Do you want to get out of the house or something, you seem sort of… on edge," He answered eventually, using a fair level of cautiousness with his suggestion.

I turned around slowly, "You're tired though, and we don't need to go do something if you don't want."

The side of Spencer's mouth quirked downwards, "I meant that you could go somewhere, get out of the house, go somewhere quiet."

"Where could be more quiet than this? All we do is read anyways," I pointed out.

"You know what I mean."

I sighed and looked around the kitchen; it felt suppressive, smaller somehow. "Alright, but not for too long," I conceded.

-x-X-x-

A slightly rusted blue Volvo drove up to the front door of the large white house and parked. The driver and passenger side doors swung open and the two Reids got out. The ornate wooden door of the house opened and the owner, a lightly gray-haired Italian man stepped out on to the front steps.

"You've got to get a new car, Spencer," Rossi called, wrapping his 'niece' in a tight bear hug.

"Thanks for doing this Dave, it means a lot," Spencer said, grabbing a backpack from the backseat of the car.

"No problem, you know I love to play host!" He exclaimed, finally releasing the younger Reid from his embrace. "When will we be seeing you?" Rossi asked.

"A… day or two. I'll take her home before the funeral," Spencer answered, mounting the steps and depositing the book bag beside his sister.

"Make sure you eat something other than cereal and coffee, ok?" Sara called after him as he got into the car.

"No promises! I'll talk to you soon." The car started again and drove back into the street, disappearing a moment later. The aging profiler and the teenager lingered on the porch for a moment in silence.

"You know," Sara muttered, "When he asked if I wanted to get out of the house, I figured I'd go for a walk or something. I didn't think he'd ship me off for two days." She reached up to the bridge of her nose instinctively to adjust her glasses, and not finding them there, jammed her hands into her pockets.

Rossi shrugged and gave her an understanding smile. "How about we go find a guest room for you and then take Mudgie for a walk?"

Sara smiled a little and nodded, "Sounds good, sir."

Rossi chuckled and grabbed the bag off the porch, "Welcome to the Rossi mansion, princess."


	121. Chapter 121

Doctor Reid parked his car just down the street from his destination and got out, setting a brisk pace for himself down the suburban street towards the Jareau-LaMontagne household. He was knocking on the front door before he realized what he was doing, so when Will opened the front door a moment later, it was a little bit of a shock to the tired Doctor.

"Hey Doc, how are ya? Come in," The Detective greeted him, stepping aside to let his guest into the living room. The curtains were shut but the room was bright from the glow of the TV screen. "Johnny, Spencer's here," Will announced.

The lanky teenager sprawled out on his stomach in front of the TV paused his game and looked up, "Hey Doc, want to join us? Assassin's Creed," John said, waving his controller.

"No thanks, is JJ around?" Spencer asked, turning back to Will.

Just then JJ entered the room as well, son tucked under one arm. "Hey Spence, I thought I heard you," She said happily, setting Henry on his feet. The little boy scampered over to his god-father, and Spencer picked him up without hesitation.

"Hey buddy," Spencer smiled at the two-year old.

"Hi, Unca Spesser!" Henry answered, grabbing a piece of his godfather's hair and tugging it.

"Ow, Henry what was that for?" Spencer asked, frowning at the boy and gently removing his hand from his hair.

"Pretty!" Henry exclaimed, wiggling out of Spencer grip and running over to John, where he promptly collapsed on top of the teenager's back.

John laughed, "Sorry about that Doc, he's been doing that all day." To demonstrate, Henry began unceremoniously tugging at random pieces of his cousin's hair and explaining how pretty it was.

"At least he doesn't pull mine," JJ added, brushing her long hair off her shoulder. "So, what's up Spence?"

Spencer shifted on his feet, glancing around at the room full of LaMontagnes. "Just… wondering if we could… chat."

JJ smiled and nodded, "Sorry boys, time to clear out. I've known Spencer for six years and this is the first time he's wanted to 'chat,' the house might explode."

Spencer sat down on the couch and watched for a few minutes as Will packed up a bag to take with Henry to the park. John saved his game, after watching the next cut scene of course. "Are you coming, John?" Will asked after collecting the necessary supply of toys and snacks to last a few hours.

"Yeah sure, just a minute. Um, how's Sara doing? I haven't heard much from her in a few days," John asked, turning to Spencer.

"Oh, um, she's ok," The Doctor answered, anxious for the group to leave.

"Think she'd be ok with me calling her at the house?"

Spencer shook his head, "I'm sure she'd like to hear from you, but you'll have to call her cell phone, she's staying at Rossi's house for a few days."

John bit the inside of his cheek and nodded, "Thanks. See you later."

The LaMontagne men stepped outside and shut the door behind them.

"So… your girl's at Rossi's?" Will asked casually.

John slipped his hands into his pockets and rocked back on his heels, "Looks like it, sir."

"Uh-huh," Will nodded.

"Hey, on a… uh… completely unrelated note… could I borrow the truck for the evening?"

"Uh-huh," Will repeated, shifting his son to his left arm and producing the keys from his pocket, tossing them to his cousin. "Have fun lover-boy," He added, punching the teenager in the shoulder and grinning at him wickedly.

"Bye-bye, love-boy!" Henry waved from under Will's arm.

John smiled to himself, hopped off the porch, and headed up the driveway to retrieve Will's truck from the garage as his cousins got into JJ's car. The LaMontagne men headed off to their respective destinations.

-x-X-x-

"Since when do they call me 'Doc'?" Spencer asked as soon as the LaMontagnes shut the door.

JJ shrugged, "It's just a phase."

"And, I thought that John was afraid of me!" He complained.

"Why should he be afraid of you here? He's at his own house," JJ reminded him.

Spencer glanced around, "But this isn't his house."

"Might as well be, he never leaves," JJ muttered, stowing a left over game controller under the TV. "So, what's up?"

Spencer sighed and sat down on the couch, running his hands through his hair. JJ sat down beside her friend, putting a hand on his knee, "You ok?" She asked quietly.

"I don't know," Spencer shook his head. "I can't stop thinking about her."

"About Emily?"

Spencer nodded again, burying his face in his hands. "I just… if we can't protect each other, why do we even do this? What's the point of we can't keep each other safe? She did all that to protect us and she's gone because of it."

JJ ducked her head, her eyes beginning to glaze over, "She did what she thought was the right thing."

"I hate this, JJ. It hurts enough thinking about it all the time, and then there's Sara. I can hear her crying at night, and I have to keep it together in case she needs me. During the day she pretends like nothing's wrong, I can't stand it. What if she holds it all in like she did after her mom died? Do you know what that could do to her mental health, especially considering her family history?"

"Family history?"

Spencer sighed again, "She told me recently that her mother's death was suicide," He admitted.

JJ exhaled sharply, "You've been dealing with this all by yourself?"

"I have to," He smiled sadly, lifting his face from his hands. His eyes were reddened around the rims.

"Spence, you know we're all here for you, right?"

"I know, I know, it's just hard… for me to tell people about… but Emily was always there for me… I miss my friend." At that point Spencer's voice failed him, and he slowly dissolved into quiet sobs. JJ wrapped her arms around his shoulders, holding tightly to the young Doctor.

"It's ok Spence, it's ok," She tried to whisper comfortingly, blinking back her own tears.


End file.
